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Columbia  SlnitJf  rja^itp 

THE    LIBRARIES 


Bequest  of 

Frederic  Bancroft 

1860-1945 


Rev.  L.  Bellinger. 


STEAY   LEAVES 


FROM   THE 


PORT-FOLIO 


OF    A 


METHODIST  LOCAL  PREACHER. 


BY 

KEV.  LUCIUS  BELLINGER, 


OF  SOUTH  CAROLINA. 


PRINTED  FOR  THE  4UTHOR, 
By  J.  W.  BUEKE  &  CO.,  MACGIST,  GA. 

1870. 


93  s.  I 
:B¥/y 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1870,  by 

J.  "W.  BURKE  A  CO., 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  fur  the 
Southern  District  of  Georgia. 


97'/Y~. 


*> 
o 

# 


'^    M  To  MY  Wife, 

^>.  JANE  BEUCE  BELLmGEH, 

N 

^  MY    BEST    EARTHLY    FRIEND,    WISEST    COUNSELLOR, 

AND 
CONSTANT    HELPER    IN    MY    PILGRIMAGE    TO    A    BETTER    LAND; 

AND    TO 

MY  MANY  FRIENDS, 

*IN 

South  Carolina,  North  Carolina,  and  Georgia, 

WITH    WHOM     I     have    OFTEN      HELD     SAVEET     COMMUNION,     AND 

whose  christian  sympathies  have  cheered  me  in  the 

way  to  heaven, 

This  Humble  Eecord  of  my- Wanderings, 

IN   THE  Service   of  the  Master, 

is  respectfully  dedicated, 

^^  ^  By  the  AUTHOE. 

J 


EDITOR'S   PREFACE. 


The  Author  insists  tliat  the  Editor  say  a  word  to  the 
Public,  to  introduce  the  "  Stray  Leaves."  But  there  is 
little  need.  The  narratives  here  brought  together,  are  not 
altogether  new  to  the  Author's  many  friends ;  and  it  is  at 
their  solicitation  that  they  were  first  committed  to  paper, 
and,  now,  to  t^'pe.  The  name  and  fame  of  the  "  Strange 
Preacher,"  the  love  entertained  for  the  "  Wandering  Arab," 
the  interest  alreadj^  awakened  in  the  "  Stray  Leaves,"  by 
what  is  known  of  them  by  the  numberless  friends  of  the 
Author,  will  guarantee  this  book  a  circulation,  without  a 
Avord  from  the  Editor  to  stimulate  it. 

It  is  proper  to  say,  that  the  Editor  has  been  embarrassed, 
from  the  large  amount  of  matter  put  into  his  hands  with 
the  responsible  privilege  of  following  his  own  judgment,  in 
selecting  from  it  the  best  material  for  the  contemplated 
volume.  As  pjj't  of  the  purpose  of  the  Author  was,  very 
properly,  to  get  some  pecuniary  profit  from  his  book,  thus 
to  repair  the  heavy  losses  of  the  war,  its  cost  was  to  be 
considered ;  and  had  all  the  material  put  into  the  Editor's 
hands  been  used,  the  book  would  have  been  too  bulky  to 
be  remunerative.  In  making  the  selection,  the  Editor  has 
been  compelled  to  follow  his  own  judgment;  and  he  may, 
therefore,  have  left  out  some  "Leaves"  which  both  the 
Author  and  his  friends  would  have  preferred  inserted.  If 
so,  the  full  discretion  given  him  by  the  Author  must  be 
his  w^arrant;  and  the  peculiarities  of  his  own  taste  and 
judgment  must  bear  the  responsibility. 


EDITOR  S   PREFACE.  V. 

In  other  respects,  the  Editor's  labor  has  been  confined 
principally  to  compressing  into  smaller  compass  what  was 
written  currente  calamo,  by  one  not  much  accustomed  to 
writing,  and  whose  excitable  temperament  naturally  led 
him  into  diffuse  narrative.  In  this  condensation,  however, 
whatever  is  characteristic  of  the  Author  —  as  a  man,  a 
Christian,  a  friend,  and  a  preacher — has  been  faithfully 
preserved ;  and  the  Editor  flatters  himself,  that  whoever 
knows  Lucius  Bellinger,  will  tind  him  faithfully  repro- 
duced in  these  pages. 

Wishing  for  the  Author  maiiy  readers,  and  for  his  read- 
ers much  of  that  spirit  of  love  for  the  blaster  that  glows 
through  these  pages,  this  unpretending  volume  is  com- 
mended to  a  generous  public. 

E.  H.  Myers. 

Macox,  Ga.,  Feb.  1st,  1870. 


TON  TENTS. 

PAOK. 

].i:af  J. — Birtli  and  Early  Years — First  Serious  Convictions — How 

they  were  liOst 9 

Leaf  II. — My  Second  Conviction — Stronger  tlian   tlie   First — but 

Lost  in  the  same  way ]5 

Leaf  IIL — My  Third  Conviction  even  more  Powerful  than  the  last — 

Hell  is  Defeated — Heaven  "J'riuniphs — I  am  Converted 22 

Leaf  IV". — The  Dream  that  was  Repeated  ;  and  how  Dr.  S was 

Convicted  and  Converted 34 

Leaf  V. — How  Dr.  S Joined  the  Church,  and  the  Merchant  did 

not  Sell  the  Heavy  Bill  that  day  as  was  expected 39 

Leaf  YI. — Dr.  S in  his  First  Love-feast 42 

Leaf  Yll. — Dr.  S ,  after  Advising  and  Entreating  his  Friend  to 

refrain  from  Shouting  at  an  Expected  Meeting,  is  the  First  heard 
from 40 

Leaf  YIIL — OldShiloh;  or,  the  Sanctified  Preacher 50 

Leaf  IX. — A  Memento  of  my  Departed  Friend,  the  Rev.  James  C. 
Postell ;  or,  a  Night  at  Cattle  Creek  Camp-ground  in  the  Olden 
Time 5G 

Leaf  X. — My  First  Yisit  to  old  Cane  Creek  Camp-ground,  Union 

District,  why  I  went  there  :  or,  the  Beginning  of  my  Roving  Ijife     50 

Leaf  XL — My  First  Yisit  to  Rock  Springs  Camp-ground,  Xorth  Ca- 
rolina ;  and  a  Wayside  Meeting 67 

Leaf  XII. — The  Black  Swamp  Camp-meeting,  Avhere  the  Colonel  of 
the  Beaufort  Rangers  surrendered  his  Sword,  and  the  Captain 
of  the  Gillisonville  Guards  left  his  Post 73 

Leaf  XIII. — A   Camp-meeting  in   the    Up-country,   from   which   I 

found  out  Something  I  did  not  know  before 83 

Leap  XIY. — Centre  Camp-ground,  North  Carolina,  and  the  Low- 
countrv  Dinner ;  and  how  the  Class-leader's  AVife  was  Convicted 
and  Converted 88 

Leaf  XV. — How  I  got  the  Names  of  ''  War  Preacher"  and  "  Wan- 
dering Arab.'- 96 


CONTENTS.  VI 1. 

PAGE. 

Leaf  XVI. — My  First  Visit  to  Gully  Camp-ground,  Darlington  District     99 
Leaf  XVII. — My  First  Visit  to  Pleasant  Grove  Camp-ground,  North 

Carolina,  where  two  long  Letters  on  Controversy  were  Answered  10-1 

Leaf  XVIII. — Camp-meetings  in  Georgia. 107 

Leaf  XIK. — Meetings  at  old  Springtown ;    or,   the  Preacher  who, 

while  Working  for  others,  Enjoyed  himself  very  much 116 

Leaf  XX. — ''  In  Union  there  is  Strength  ;"  or,  the  Two  Flags  Waving 
together ;  or,  Judah  and  Simeon  together,  with  Locked  Shields, 

pressing  the  Battle  to  the  Gate 12^,-m» 

Leaf  XXI. — Meetings  in  Alabama 131 

Leaf  XXII. — A  Memento  to  my  Departed  Friend,  Rev.  H.  H.  Du- 

rant;  or,  a  Visit  to  Sandy  Spring  Camp-ground,  South  Carolina  138 
Leaf  XXIII. — A  Memento  to  my  Dear  Departed  Brother  in  Christ, 
Rev.  W.  C.  Kirkland  —  the   Man   whom   the   Church   and   the 

World  loved 146 

Leaf  XXIV. — Remarkable  Dreams 164 

Leaf  XXV. — Remarkable  Presentiments  which  came  to  pass 160 

Leaf  XXVL— The  Strange  Preacher  Trying  his  Bob .' 163 

Leaf  XXVIL— The  Heroes  of  the  old  Walterboro  Circuit 168 

Leaf  XXVIII. — A  MementS  of  my  most  Beloved  Friend,  Brother 
Thomas  Raysor,  the  Model  Steward  ;  or,  the  Man  whose  Mantle 

no  one  has  yet  been  found  Worthy  to  wear 184 

Leaf  XXIX.— Camden  ;  Meetings  at  Salem  Camp-ground,  and  Lan- 
caster Court-house 189 

Leaf  XXX. — The  Strange  Preacher  Counting  Chickens  before  they 
were  Hatched;  or,  Expecting  Great  Things,  was  quite  Disap- 
pointed     195 

Leaf  XXXI. — A  Memento  to  my  Departed  Friends, "the  Three  great 
Heroes  of  the  old  Barnwell  Circuit,  and  Binnakers  Camp-ground 

— Brothers  Henry  Holman,  David  Felder,  and  George  Riley 205 

Leaf  XXXII. — Meetings  at  old  Zion  ;  and  the  Last  Freshet  in  the 

Edisto 211 

Leaf  XXXIIL — My  Second  Visit  to  Rock  Springs  Camp-ground, 
North  Carolina,   and  the  Star  of  H.  H.   Durant  again  iji  'the 

Ascendant 222 

Leaf  XXXIV. — My   First  Visit  to  Spartanburg,  where   I   had   to 

preach  more  than  the  Two  Promised  Sermons 232 


Vlll.  CONTENTS. 

PAGI 

Leak  XXXV. — IIow  the  Protracted  Meeting  at  G was  broken 

up,  when  the  Ghost  shook  his  Gory  Locks 237 

Leaf  XXXVL — Two  Visits  to  Georgetown  by  tlie  Strange  Preacher  245 

Leaf  XXXVIL — English  Chapel  ;  or,  the  Wandering  Arab,  taking 
the  Water  with  Fear  and  Trembling,  comes  out  better  than  he 
Expected,  with  the  exception  of  pulling  his  Boots  off 251 

Leak  XXXVIIL— The  Protracted  Meeting  at  D Closed  and  Re- 
newed again  ;  or,  the  Best  of  the  Wine  at  the  Last  of  the  Feast.  258 
tu^^Leaf  XXXIX. — Meetings   on    the  Cooper  River  Circuit,  with  my 

^-^       much-loved  Friend  and  Brother,  the  Rev.  J.  W.  Kelly 204 

af  XL. — Providence    Camp-ground,    Fish   Dam,    and    Belmont, 
Union  District,  South  Carolina 274 

Leaf  XLI. — Mesopotamia,  Union  District 283 

Leap  XLIL — Meetings  at  Cannon's  Camp-ground,  and  in  the  Town 

of  Spartanburg 289 

Leaf  XLIIL — Jacksonville,  Florida  ;  or,  the  Strange  Preacher  re- 
quested to  stay  till  after  Supper 297 

Leaf  XLIV.— A  Visit  to  Black  Swamp  Circuit— Elegies  of  the  Old 

House  and  of  the  Oak-tree 300 

Leaf  XLV.— The  Conclusion  and  Farewell »....  310 


STRAY  LEAVES 


THE  POET-FOLIO     ] 


LOCAL    PREACHER. 


LEAF  THE  FIRST. 

BIRTH    AND    EA.RLY    YEARS — FIRST    SERIOUS    CONVICTIONS  — 
HOW    THEY    WERE    LOST. 

I  was  born  in  the  town  of  Walterboro',  S.  C,  October  5th, 
1806.  I  was  the  second  son  of  Dr..  John  S.  Bellinger,  who, 
when  I  was  quite  young,  moved  to  Barnwell  District,  and 
settled  a  place,  which  he  called  "Pine  Forest,"  where  I 
lived  until  my  mother's  death.  As  I  was  growing  up,  my 
father  often  told  me  that  as  a  child  I  was  very  hard  to  rule, 
very  quick  tempered,  and  that  I  caused  my  dear  mother 
much  trouble.  He  said,  that  she  often  talked  to  him  of  me, 
and  told  him  just  before  she  died,  she  was  much  more  dis- 
tressed about  me,  than  any  of  the  other  children.  She 
tried,  however,  to  bring  me  up  aright,  making  me  say  ray 
prayers  regularly. 

Soon  after  my  mother's  death,  my  father  sent  off  my  elder 
brother  and  myself  to  an  Academy  called  Mount  Prospect, 
in  Union  District.  I  was  then  only  eight  years  old.  I 
remained  there  for  two  years  While  still  quite  young,  I 
was  sent  to  another  school,  ten  or  twelve  miles  from  Col- 
umbia, at  Piatt  Springs.  I  remained  there  several  years. 
1 


10  ST  KAY    LEAVES. 

There  AYiis  a  lari:;o  number  of  boys  at  that  Academy,  from 
different  parts  of  tlio  State.  We  had  some  very  roii<^h 
scenes  to  pass  through.  It  was  no  holiday  business  in 
those  days,  to  go  to  school  so  far  from  homo.  The  boys 
were  very  careless  concerninij  religious  things— many  of 
them  l^eing  desperately  wicked —awfully  profane.  Sunday 
was  very  little  respected,  and  we  enjoyed  ourselves  in 
various  ways — all  sinful  in  the  sight  of  God.  It  is  doubt- 
ful if  there  was  a  pious  boy  among  us.  The  man  with 
whom  we  boarded  was  a  wicked,  drink  ng  bully— a  terror 
to  all  around. 

Once  every  year,  T  paid  a  visit  to  my  home.  I  well  re- 
member those  annual  returns  to  the  home  of  my  childhood. 
It  seems  to  me  now  when  I  think  of  those  stated  returns,  that 
it  was  to  me  then  somewhat  like  an  exiled  son  of  Abraham 
returning  to  the  land  of  his  fathers.  My  youngest  brother, 
Edmund,'  was  then  with  us  at  the  Academy.  My  father 
was  noted  for  his  punctuality,  so  that  he  had  a  fixed  day 
both  for  our  going  from,  and  returning  to,  our  home — the 
first  day  of  January  and  the  last  day  of  November.  During 
the  many  years  I  was  at  Piatt  Sp^ngs,  I  do  not  remember 
having  missed  the  appointed  time,  but  once;  and  then  afflic- 
tion in  the  family  prevented  our  returning  at  the  usual 
time.  Oh,  those  happy  days  of  my  boyhood!  how  plea- 
santly were  they  spent  in  the  company  of  my  brothers  ! 
How  can  I  ever  forget  them  1  Even  now,  I  remember  with 
what  transports  of  joy  we  would  leave  Piatt  Springs  and 
th^Congaree  creek.  During  our  homeward  ride,  we  noted 
eviiy  hill  we  passed  as  bringing:  us  so  much  nearer  the 
Mecca  of  our  hearts.  And  when  we  had  crossed  the  North 
Edisto  at  Orangeburg,  and  the  South  Edisto  at  Cannon's 
bridge,  we  felt  more  than  we  could  express,  for  then  we 
were  only  ten  miles  from  home.  Bat  on,  and  still  on,  the 
boys  go — their  old  horses,  "  Fear-not"  and  "  Capt.  Hull," 
seem  to  feel  as  glad  as  their  young  masters — they  move  so 
fast  on  the  good  road.  A.nd  now,  first  Lemon  swamp,  and 
then  Baring's  Hill,  are  left  behind.  That  house  you  see  on 
the  right  leaves  only  two  miles  more.  Let  us  now  turn 
down  the  old  avenue.     As  fast  as  they  are  travelling,  the 


VACATION    AMUSEMENTS.  11 

boys  are  becoming  impatient,  and  wish  they  could  go  even 
faster.  Hear  how  they  clap  their  hands  and  laugh  out — • 
''There  is  old  Pine  Forest."  Edmund  spies  the  homestead 
first,  and  then  his  less  fortunate  brother,  Lucius.  And 
now  we  are  at  home.  Our  dear  father  is  coming  down  the 
steps  to  welcome  his  three  boys.  So  anxious  is  he  that  he 
has  forgotten  his  hat.  Then  come  Maum  Cilia  and  Kate, 
and  Uncle  Cudjo  and  Paris,  to  shake  hands  with  us;  and 
now  we  realize  that  we  are  at  home  at  last.  It  is  with  a 
mi.i^hty  eifort  that  we  can  prepare  for  bed  that  night  And 
then  the  next  day  we  follow  our  inclinations,  and  roam  all 
about  the  woods,  proving  quite  a  terror  to  squirrels,  rabbits, 
and  birds.  Imagine  our  disappointment  though,  to  find  it 
raining  on  the  second  morning  after  our  arrival,  and  father* 
counsels  us  to  remain  in-doors,  else  we  may  take  cold.  Wo 
hail  with  genuine  joy  the  re-appearance  of  the  sun,  and  go 
to  work  to  entrap  partridges,  larks,  and  other  birds.  \Ye 
thought  our  brother  John  quite  a  hero,  because  he  killed 
two  ducks  while  flying — thinking  in  our  boyish  ignorance, 
that  it  was  one  of  the  most  wonderful  shots  that  had  ever 
been  made  in  Barnwell  District.  And  then  again,  on  an- 
other day  he  shot  an  old  fox  squirrel,  which  ran  into  his 
nest,  putting  us  to  the  trouble  of  cutting  down  the  tree.  We 
found  that  he  was  in  excellent  order,  having  laid  aside  all 
ceremony  in  visiting  father's  rice  patch.  Our  vacation  has 
ended,  prematurely  we  think,  and  we  have  to  return  to 
school  again — feeling  sad  at  heart  to  say  "  good-bye"  to 
the  home-folks.  We  have  travelled  many  miles  before  I  can 
muster  courage  enough  to  keep  back  the  tears— and  in  anti- 
cipating the  future  it  seems  quite  an  age  ere*  I  can  return  to 
my  old  home.     And  thus  many  years  pass  by. 

It  was  well  for  me  at  this  time  that  I  had  been  blessed 
with  a  mother  who  was  a  pious  member  of  the  Protestant 
Episcopal  Church,  and  who  required  me  to  repeat  my 
prayers  regularly.  I  have  never  forgotten  her  instructions. 
Our  teacher  little  cared  how  the  boys  passed  the  Sabbath. 
All  that  he  required  was  strict  obedience  to  his  rules  during 
the  week.  If  they  missed  their  lessons,  they  might  look 
out  for  trouble —which  came  usually  with  a  severe  flogging. 


12  STRAY   LEAVES. 

They  would  ofLim  resort  to  imy  means  to  mitigate  the 
Boveritj  of  the  thrashing,  by  putting  bark  under  their 
shirts. 

We  usually  spent  our  Saturdays  fishing,  hunting,  etc., 
which  was  real  sport  to  scliool-boys  who  were,  for  the  time 
being,  free  from  all  restraint.  Bat  after  a  while,  quite  a 
change  came  over  Piatt  Springs.  A  now  teacher  took 
charge  of  the  school.  He  was  a  member  of  the  Presby- 
terian Church — a  man  of  upright  conduct  and  strict  morals. 
He  strictly  observed  the  Sabbath,  and  his  walk  was  up- 
right. This  was  quite  a  wonderful  day  for  the  entire 
school — each  pupil  having  his  own  opinion  regarding  our 
future  prospects.  Here  was  a  large  field  before  this  man  of 
God,  much  of  it  being  stony  ground.  A  ver}'-  poor  crop  of 
righteousness  miglit  be  expected ;  but  the  good  teacher 
went  to  Avork.  His  first  effort  was  to  establish  a  Sunday- 
school  among  the  boys.  At  first,  he  met  with  but  little 
encouragement ;  but  finally,  others  joined  the  number,  and 
I  think  there  was  a  little  improvement  among  us,  morally, 
which  happy  change  w^ent  on  gradually. 

An  old  Lutheran  preacher,  Mr.  Franklow,  whose  life  was 
nearly  worn  out  in  his  Master's  service,  at  this  time 
preached  to  us  once  a  month.  I  was  now  a  Sunday-school 
scholar.  The  good  seed  sown  in  my  young  heart  years  ego 
began  to  germinate.  Will  it  spring  ijp  ?  Will  it  bring 
forth  fruit  to  the  glory  of  God?  Time  will  tell.  Let  us 
hope  for  the  best. 

I  remember  one  evening  well.  It  must  have  been — now, 
in  1866 — more  than  forty-five  years  ago.  Let  me  try  to 
draw  the  picture.  The  sun  was  nearly  down.  A  youth — 
say  about  fifteen — was  walking  by  himself— an  old  man 
now,  writing  these  lines.  This  was  no  chance  work  ;  I 
think  the  Lord  must  have  drawn  him  to  this  spot.  The 
last  rays  of  the  sun  were  shining  on  the  bold,  rapid  Con- 
garee  creek.  An  old  m-an  on  the  other  side  was  walking 
slowly,  tremblingly  along,  leading  his  horse.  He  intended 
to  walk  over  the  foot-log,  while  he  led  his  horse  through 
the  water.  This  was  the  aged  Lutheran  preacher,  coming 
to  preach  for  us  on  the  morrow.     I  crossed  over  the  foot- 


DEEP   CONVICTIONS.  13 

log;  and  hastened  up  to  the  preacher,  who  extended  his 
hand,  saying : — 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you  ;  I  suspect  the  Lord  sent  you 
here  ;  I  have  been  fasting  to-day,  and  feel  weak  and  weary; 
I  was  afraid  to  attempt  to  ride  over,  and  am  glad  you  have 
come  to  help  me  across." 

H|e  prayed  the  blessing  of  the  Lord  upon  me.  I  first 
assisted  him  over,  and  then  led  his  horse  through  the 
creek.  I  think  that  the  blessed  spirit  of  my  mother  looked 
down  from  boaven  upon  her  prodigal  son,  from  whose 
heart  all  good  impressions  were  not  entirely  gone.  The 
old  man  seemed  very  grateful  ;  he  thanked  me  with  tears 
streaming  down  his  venerable  face. 

He  preached  to  us  the  next  day.  I  heard  him  frequently 
during  those  years  long  gone  by  ;  but  that  which  is  most 
distinct  in  my  memory  is  the  hymn  with  which  he  usually 
dismissed  us  Even  now,  at  this  remote  period,  in  imagina- 
tion I  hear  him  repeat  these  lines — 

"  Give  every  fettered  soul  release, 
And  let  us  all  depart  in  peace." 

About  this  time  there  was  an  examination  of  the  Sunday- 
school  scholars.  One  of  the  first  prizes  was  awarded  to  me. 
I  valued  the  book  given  to  me  on  that  occasion  very  highly. 
The  preaching  and' the  counsels  of  that  good  man,  and  the 
prayers  of  my  blessed  mother,  which  had  been  so  often 
offered  for  her  wayward  son,  were  answered  now,  in  my 
first  serious  convictions.  They  were  strong  and  powerful. 
I  was  bowed  in  spirit,  with  no  one  to  advise  or  comfort  me. 
The  preacher  would  not  be  back  for  weeks,  and  the  teacher, 
though  a  good  man,  did  not  attempt  to  win  the  love  and 
confidence  of  his  pupils,  but  rather  kept  aloof  from  them. 
Consequently,  I  was  all  alone  with  my  great  grief,  not 
knowing  how  to  approach  my  God.  I  have  always  thought, 
that  if  I  could  have  been  blessed  at  that  time  with  the 
prayers  and  advice  of  some  Christian  man,  I  might  have 
started  that  much  sooner  by  many  years  for  glory.  I  tried 
to  pray;  but  there  was  no  one  to  point  me  the  way.  How 
well   do    T    remember   those    days  of  trouble—away  from 


14  STRAY    LEAVES. 

home,  Avith  no  one  to  counsel  me.  I  think  my  brothers 
were  ignorant  of*  my  feelings. 

I  remember  the  last  Sabbath  I  passed  in  that  stjlte  of 
mind.  I  absented  myself  from  my  companions,  during  the 
entire  day,  and  tried  hard  to  compose  my  thoughts,  and  to 
engage  in  prayer.  I  read  the  entire  book  of  Psalms  on 
that  da}^. 

My  distress  was  very  great;  but  the  devil  knowing  my 
weak  point,  kept  his  eye  upon  me.  I  feel  truly  sorry,  even 
now,  when  I  recall,  with  shame,  how  he  overthrevs^  me,  and 
deprived  me  of  the  great  blessing  that  my  Saviour  was  even 
then  waiting  to  give  me.  I  was  of  very  quick  temi^er,  very 
easil}^  angered,  and  my  great  enemy  knew  this,  and  here  ho 
got  advantage  over  me.  Shortly  after  that  Sunday-,  I  arose 
from  my  knees  one  morning  sad  and  troubled,  and  joined 
the  boys,  v^rhich  was  sometimes  unavoidable.  I  passed 
through  the  crowd  with  my  head  bowed  down,  feeling 
much  depressed  in  spirits.  One  of  my  companions  struck 
me  a  heavy  blow  on  the  back  with  some  missile.  In  a 
moment  all  my  deep  convictions  were  gone— the  tempter 
had  gained  the  victory.  I  turned  round,  filled  with  awful 
anger;  and  when  I  discovered  who  the  offender  was,  I 
rushed  upon  him  ;  but  we  were  separated,  and  it  was  in  vain 
that  I  tried  to  reach  him.  Alas  for  me  !  my  convictions 
bad  been  swept  away  like  straw  before  the  mighty  wind. 
The  sun  rose  on  me  that  morning  an  humble,  mourning 
soul,  not  far  from  salvation.  The  same  heavenly  orb  went 
down  on  me,  with  my  good  intentioi  s  all  gone — my  angry 
passions  ruling  me  with  a  mighty  power.  I  turned  from 
my  Bible  and  prayers,  and  from  my  search  after  the  Sa- 
viour's love.  Hell  had  triumphed,  and  I  was  on  my  way 
to  ruin. 


LEAF  THE  SECOND. 

MY    SECOND    CONVICTION — STRONGER    THAN    THE    FIRST — BUT 
LOST    IN    THE    SAME   WAY. 

My  years  at  Piatt  Springs  were  over  now.  I  left  there 
more  than  forty  years  ago,  and  T  have  never  visited  the 
p'ace  since,  notwithstanding  my  desire  to  re-visit  the  old 
Springs,  the  Congaree  creek,  the  old  school-house,  and  their 
never-to-be-forgotten  surroundings.  I  sometimes  think,  that 
the  hand  of  Providence  has  so  directed  it,  that  I  should 
never  walk  over  those  grounds  again.  So  be  it!  The 
Lord's  will  be  done,  not  mine.  But  old  Piatt  Springs,  thou 
art  not  forgotten  !  I  have  thought  of  thee  times  without 
number.  And  thou,  Congaree  creek,  rapid  and  bold,  has- 
tening on  to  the  river,  in  imagination  I  have  often,  again 
and  again,  sported  in  th}^  strong  current!  It  was  there  that 
I  took  my  first  lessons  in  swimming,  and  in  time  became  one 
of  the  most  expert  of  the  hundreds  who  spent  very  much  of 
their  time  in  the  water. 

I  well  remember  the  last  night  of  my  stay  at  Piatt 
Springs.  The  examination  was  over;  father  had  sent  for 
us.  After  paying  all  our  debts,  and  bidding  Mr.  Stafford 
farewell,  and  taking  leave  of  Mrs.  Bell,  Mr.  Boughman,  and 
Mr.  Geger's  family,  and  shaking  hand  for  the  last  time  with 
most  of  the  boj^s,  Edmund  and  myself  were  left  alone,  and 
we  awaited  very  impatiently  the  dawn,  that  we  might 
make  an  early  start  for  Pine  Forest.  While  we  were  thus 
waiting,  three  or  four  of  the  hoyn  entered  our  rooms.  They 
"had  come  to  bid  us  "  good-bye."  Let  me  say  here,  that 
even  then  I  was  trjang  to  do  what  I  have  endeavoured  to  do 
ever  since — that  is,  to  have  as  little  to  do  with  ardent  spirits 
as  possible.  But  there  were  boys  among  us  who  were  too 
fond  of  them,  and  these  boys  were  among  that  number  Af- 
ter remaining  for  some  time,  they  proposed  a  parting  drink, 
which  they  insisted  on  our  taking.  We  at  first  declined, 
but  finally  yielded  to  the-r  persuasions.  The  bottle  was 
brought  out.     We  drank  standing,  without  water,  and  then 


16  STRAY    I.EAVIvS. 

parted  — some  never  to  meet  again.     Tluit  was  the  first  and 
last  drink  of  that  kind  I  have  ever  taken.* 

I  reached  home  safely,  in  duo  time.  After  the  lapse  of 
some  years.  I  found  myself  even  more  wicked  than  when  at 
school — being  headlong,  passionate,  travelling  with  rapid 
steps  the  road  to  eternal  night.  I  entered  upon  the  duties  of 
life— farming  on  a  small  scale.  I  hunted,  fished,  and  en- 
jo3"ed  myself  in  various  ways.  Occasionally,  I  went  on  the 
Sabbath  in  company  with  some  wicked  young  men  to  a 
place  called  Clear  Pond,  and,  by  my  great  skill  in  swim- 
ming, astonished  the  lookers-on  so  mucli,  that  the  report  of 
my  feats  \vas  heard  far  and  near.  I  ver}^  seldom  attended 
church — having  no  use  for  preaching — but  I  went  to  camp 
meetings.  I  was  often,  however,  at  Spring  Town — the 
nearest  place  of  worship  -for  the  sake  of  the  crowd  that 
went  there.  I  went  to  "  muster"  regularly,  and  finally  be- 
came Captain  of  the  Fish-pond  Company,  and  began  to  feel 
a  little  big.  I  was  very  wicked,  perhaps  more  so  than  my 
friends  imagined.  Time  rolled  on.  There  was  then  a  very 
popular  preacher  on  the  old  Orangeburg  circuit — the  pre- 
sent Bishop  Wightman,  I  heard  so  much  of  him  that  I 
concluded  to  go  to  Pine  G-rove  Church  to  hear  him.  I  there 
met  several  friends  and  relatives.  I  remember  it  as  w/jll  as 
if  it  were  only  yesterday.  The  old  log  house  was  crowded.  I 
heard  a  very  fine  sermon.  A  local  preacher,  famous  for  his 
loud  praying,  concluded,  with  a  voice  like  a  war  trumpet. 
Some  of  the  fashionable  ladies  present  complained  after- 
wards of  severe  headache.  A  pair  of  fine  horses  became 
frightened  at  that  trumpet-voice:  the  carriage  pole  was 
broken  ;  and  the  owner — a  lady  of  great  respectability — be- 
came so  provoked  with  Methodist  preachers,  that  she  never, 
during  her  life,  attended  another  Methodist  meeting. 


■^  Very  many  years  afterwards,  when  on  my  way  to  Camden,  to  be  or- 
dained deacon,  one  evening  about  dark,  some  persons  passed  me.  By 
their  actions,  I  knew  they  were  drunk,  and  I  was  at  once  suddenly  im- 
pressed that  among  them  were  some  of  those  who  took  that  parting 
drink  with  me  at  Piatt  Springs,  and  it  required  an  effort  to  restrain  my 
tears.  I  found  out  afterwards,  that  I  was  right — that  they  had  thrown 
themselves  away  entirely. 


DOCTOR  CAPERS  AT  PINE  GROVE.  17 

The  youDg  Captain  of  the  Fish-pond  Company  never  once 
thought,  during  his  occasional  visits  to  old  Pine  Grove  in 
those  days,  that,  in  a  few  years,  he  would  become  one  of 
the  class-leaders  of  the  little  band  who  worshipped  there, 
hoping  to  get  to  heaven,  when  the  warfare  of  life  is  over. 

During  the  same  year,  there  was  a  quarterly  meeting  at 
^the  same  place.  I  attended,  and  found  quite  a  crowd  for 
the  place.  Br.  Capers,  whose  fame  had  spread  all  over  his 
native  State,  and  to  many  others,  was  expected  to  be- there. 
Old  Pine  Grove  had  never  seen  such  a  turn-out  for  many 
years — perhaps,  a  greater  gathering  had  never  been  there. 
The  people  came  from  Buck-head,  from  Green-pond,  from 
Wesley  Chapel,  and  from  the  other  side  of  the  Edisto — 
came  in  crowds.  The  Lord  blessed  his  children  with  a 
most  lovely  (^ay  for  that  season  of  the  year.  Brothers 
Howell,  Eason  Smith,  Steadly,  Barton,  E.  Stephens,  and 
Curry  were  there,  singing  as  the  old-time  Methodists  used 
to  sing.  The  preaching  was  out  of  doors,  and  to  almost 
every  tree  there  was  a  horse  fastened.  In  imagination, 
listen  to  that  singing.  Hearts  are  engaged  in  the  work, 
expecting  and  praying  for  a  glorious  time  ;  and  that  day's 
histoiy  will  tell,  both  in  time  and  eternity,  that  they  were 
not  disappointed.  The  crowd  coiitinues  to  increase,  and 
song  after  song  climbs  the  hills  of  heaven,  and  the  holy 
angels  are  hovering  over,  more  in  number  than  for  years 
before,  perhaps  ;  while  hell  is  trembling  to  its  centre,  but 
musters  all  its  strength  for  a  desperate  battle.  The  negroes 
are  out  in  great  crowds,  and  sing  with  voices  that  make 
the  woods  ring.  The  hour  of  public  worship  arrives.  Bro- 
ther VVightman  preaches  the  first  sermon— his  text,  "Woe 
to  the  world,  because  of  offences," — a  sermon  long  to  be  re- 
membered. He  paints  the  awful  fate  which  awaits  all  sin- 
ners, who  not  onl}^  ruin  themselves,  but  draw  others  down 
with  them  to  the  realms  of  endless  night. 

The  young  preacher  not  only  sustained,  but  added  much 
to  his  rising  fame  by  that^  day's  weU-arranged  and  finished 
sermon,  which  was  preached  at  old  Pine  Grove  Church. 

When  the  preacher  sat  down,  Dr.  Capers  rose  before  that 
tremendous  throng.     His  face  alone  was  a  sermon,  whether 


18  STRAY    LEAVES. 

in  the  pulpit  or  not.  Wlio  that  looked  at  that  man  would 
not  feel  that  a  Christian  stood,  before  liiin,  in  all  the  grace 
and  loveliness  of  religion.  Such  a  face  and  such  a  smile  are 
not  often  seen  in  this  vale  of  tears.  I  think,  that  was  the 
first  time  I  ever  saw  him.  The  crowd  was  silent  and  re- 
spectful throughout  its  wide  limits.  How  those  expressive 
words  of  Virgil  suited  this  heavenly-minded  man,  whenever 
ho  stood  up  before  the  church  and  the  world  in  behalf  of 
his  blessed  Saviour  and  Lord — 

*'  Ille  regit  dictis  animos  et  pectora  mulcet." 

His  text  was — ''And  the  Saviour  saw  the  multitudes  were 
as  sheep  having  no  shepherd,  and  he  taught  them  many- 
things."  Oh,  that  sermon  I  wlio  can  describe  it?  The  hol}^ 
blessed  Son  of  the  Father  stood  before  our  eyes  in  all  his 
condescension,  his  meekness,  and  his  great  pity  for  a  lost 
world,  who  are  like  sheep  without  a  shepherd  As  the  holy 
man  went  on,  we  could  see  the  scene  before  us.  We  tra- 
versed the  realms  of  earth — we  crossed  the  mighty  deep, 
and  the  old  Canaan  of  the  Scriptures  was  before  us.  There 
rolled  the  Jordan — the  sacred  river.  We  saw  the  sacred 
mountains,  Carmel,  Tabor,  Hor,  and  Gilboa.  Hebron,  Na- 
zareth, and  Jerusalem  stood  before  us.  We  saw  the  sea  of 
Galilee,  with  its  palaces  mirrored  beneath  its  blue  waves, 
and  the  fishermen  with  their  vessels-jfollowing  their  trade  ; 
and  the  many  thousands  from  all  parts  of  the  holy  land 
seated  upon  the  green  grass  before  the  eternaJ  Son  of  God. 
The  halt,  the  blind,  the  lame,  the  lepers  and  those  possessed 
with  evil  spirits;  the  rich  and  the  noble  of  the  country;  the 
scribes  and  the  doctors  of  the  law,  were  there.  The  im- 
mense throng  was  before  us,  and  the  Blessed  Teacher 
taught  them  the  way  of  salvation.  The  preacher  tells  us  of 
man's  danger  and  his  only  way  of  escape;  tells  us  of  the 
joys  of  the  redeemed ;  of  the  green  fields  of  Eden  on  the 
other  side  of  the  flood ;  of  the  harps  of  heaven  ;  of  the 
crowns  of  glory  reserved  for  the  faithful  at  the  right  hand 
of  the  throne  for  ever. 

Though  it  has  been  some  forty  years  ago,  I  frequently 
hear  persons  allude  to  that  meeting.     I  doubt  much  if  there 


AGAIN   DEEPLY   CONVICTED.  19 

has  ever  been  such  another  in  these  lands.  A  vast  crowd 
stood  spell-bound  before  the  preacher.  My  much-loved  fa- 
ther was  present.  Having  heard  much  of  Dr.  Capers,  he 
was  anxious  to  hear  every  word,  and  he,  therefore,  sat  quite 
near,  and  appeared  deeply  interested.  Whenever  he  was 
interested,  he  usually  nodded  by  way  of  agreement ;  but, 
on  the  other  hand,  if  he  did  not  agree  with  the  speaker,  he 
would  shake  his  head.  On  this  occasion,  he  appeared  much 
pleased,  and  began  to  nod — a  sign  that  all  was  right.  He 
finally,  however,  ceased  nodding  assent,  and  dropped  his 
head  and  wept,  being  much  affected.  More  than  once  after- 
wards he  was  heard  to  tell  how  deeply  interested  he  was; 
but. he  said,  that  he  never  would  sit  so  near  the  pulpit  in  a 
Methodist  meeting  again,  as  he  considered  it  quite  a  danger- 
ous place;  for  he  was  coinpelled  to  weep  in  spite  of'every 
effort  of  his  to  refrain  from  doing  so.  He  also  acknow- 
ledged having  been  nearly  caught  by  thetn  on  that  occa- 
sion. I  wish  from  my  soul  they  had  succeeded  in  doing  so. 
But  how  about  the  Captain  of  the  Fish-pond  Company? 
How  was  he  coming  on  all  this  time?  Why,  he  was  more 
strongly,  more  powerfully  convicted  than  he  was  before,  at 
old  Piatt  Springs.  He  was  made  to  dread  the  wrath  to 
come,  more  than  ever  before  ;  and  he  felt  the  longings  for 
salvation  more  than  ever — having  been  completely  carried 
away  with  the  scene  which  had  been  presented  to  him,  and 
the  heavenly  face  that  was  before  him,  now  covered  with 
smiles,  and  then  again  with  tears  of  love  and  joy.  He  was 
transported  with  strong  emotions,  and  listened,  entranced 
by  the  soul-stirring  eloquence  of  the  holy  man  of  God,  and 
thought,  that  if  that  man  would  only  pray  for  him,  per- 
sonally, he  would  at  once  get  religion.  He  was  taken  a 
willing  captive  by  the  love  of  the  Saviour,  as  it  was  de- 
scribed to  him  that  day.  He  even  yet  remembers  that  he 
had  made  up  his  mind,  should  mourners  be  called  up,  to 
present  himself  at  the  throne  of  grace.  And  to  this  day 
he  believes,  that  he  would  not  only  have  gone  up  as  a 
mourner,  but  that  he  would  have  joined  the  church,  had 
the  opportunity  been  offered.  Towards  the  close  of  the 
sermon,   his  feelings  were  powerfully   wrought  upon,  and 


20  STRAY    LEAVES. 

ho  was  anxious  for  the  Rcrmon  to  bo  'concluded — having 
fully  resolved  when  mourners  were  called  up  to  go  too. 
I  think  mistakes  are  frequently  made,  by  having  other 
preachers  to  close.  On  this  occasion,  Dr.  Capers  did  not 
conclude  tho  service;  and  I  remember  how  much  disap- 
pointed I  was.  I  am  fully  convinced  that  I  would  have 
joined  the  church  man}^  years  sooner  than  I  did,  had  ho 
done  so.  I  had  heard  enough ;  I  only  wanted  to  be  pra^^ed 
for,  and  then  I  would  have  gone  homo  happy  in  my  Sa- 
viour's love.  Tho  preacher  who  succeeded  him  spoke  of 
tho  terrors  of  tho  law,  of  sinning  away  our  day  of  grace, 
and  of  our  being  beyond  the  reach  of  mercy  in  this  life. 
Oh,  ray  soul !  what  a  change  came  over  me !  I  was  at 
once  impressed  that  my  chance  was  gone.  How  badly  I 
felt!  I  at  once  concluded,  that  it  was  too  late  for  mo. 
When  mourners  were  called  up,  I  stayed  away,  feeling  as 
badly,  perhaps,  as  any  who  knelt  for  prayer. 

The  memorable  meeting  was  over.  I  felt  a  strong  desiro 
to  go  to  Dr.  Capers,  as  he  was  about  leaving,  and  ask  him 
to  pray  for  me  ;  but  he  did  not  know  me,  as  I  had  never 
spoken  to  him,  and,  therefore,  I  concluded  it  would  bo 
wrong.  Doubtless  it  was  the  tempter  at  work.  At  last, 
however,  I  did  resolve  to  approach  hjm;  but  too  late,  for 
he  was  gone,  and  with  him  my  hope  of  salvation  for  that 
evening  I  was  so  much  distressed,  that  many  noticed  it 
and  have  since  spoken  to  me  of  it.  I  was  so  much  troubled, 
that  it  was  with  difficulty  I  ^ode  home.  I  rode  with  head 
bowed  down,  fully  convinced  that  had  Dr.  Capers  called  up 
mourners,  I  would  have  gone  and  been  converted.  My 
state  of  mind  can  never  bo  forgotten  while  life  lasts.  It 
was  very  similar  to  my  depressed  feelings,  during  my  first 
conviction  while  at  Piatt  Springs. 

At  that  time  my  father  was  not  a  member  of  the  church, 
and  there  was  no  one  at  home  with  us,  except  the  negroes, 
some  of  whom  doubtless  loved  the  Lord,  and  could  have 
given  me  some  comfort;  but  I  confided  in  no  one.  I  tried 
again  and  again  to  pray  to  the  Lord ;  but  there  was  no  one 
to  advise,  no  one  to  direct  me  how  to  approach  the  throne  of 
heavenly  grace.    What  days  and  nights  of  awful  gloom  and 


ANOTHER   FAILURE.  21 

anguish  of  my  soul !  I  began  to  read  the  New  Testament 
as  soon  as  I  got  home,  and  finished  it  by  the  next  Saturday 
morning,  trying  very  hard,  in  my  imperfect  way,  to  obtain 
the  forgiveness  of  my  sins.  I  fully  believe,  that  had  I  been 
at  some  meeting,  where  the  Spirit  was  poured  out,  I  would 
have  found  my  blessed  Saviour.  But  alas !  my  great  enemy 
was  preparing  for  me  another  overthrow,  fatal  to  my  hopes 
of  religion. 

The  Saturday  succeeding  the  one  of  the  meeting,  was 
the  regular  muster-day  for  the  Fish-pond  Company.  Had  I 
known  what  my  experience  was  to  be,  I  never  would  have 
gone,  but  would  have  rather  paid  a  double  fine.  I  do  not 
remember  whether  1  commanded  on  that  day  or  not ;  but 
I  remember  full  well  how  earnestly  I  tried  to  pray,  before 
I  left  home — without,  however,  experiencing  any  change. 
I  was  much  depressed  in  spirit — scarcely  speaking  to  any 
one — only  replying  when  spoken  to.  I  resolved  to  return 
home  as  soon  as  my  duty  had  been  discharged.  But  I  had 
a  friend  and  relative  on  the  ground — a  man  fond  of  his 
glass,  and  very  quick  tempered.  There  was  also  another 
riian  on  the  ground,  of  the  same  habits — a  large  man,  while 
my  friend  was  rather  small.  AYhile  I  was  standing  some  dis- 
tance from  the  crowd,  engaged  with  my  own  sad  thoughts, 
I  heard  a  noise  and,  on  turning  round,  found  that  the  strong 
man  had  struck  my  friend,  and  the  blow  had  been  returned 
by  him.  The  scene  of  Piatt  Springs  was  enacted  again. 
Great  rage  took  possession  of  me.  I  rushed  between  them, 
and  took  the  place  of  my  friend.  My  antagonist  and  my- 
self were  finally  separated.  I  went  home — all  my  convic- 
tions and  distress  of  soul  gone.  Hell  had  triumphed  the 
second  time. 


LEAF  THE  TIIIKD. 

MY  THIRD  CONVICTION  EVEN  MORE  POWERFUL  THAN  THE 
LAST — HELL  IS  DEFEATED — HEAVEN  TRIUMPHS  — I  AM 
CONVERTED. 

After  my  second  overthrow,  I  wandered  much  farther  in 
the  broad  road  to  destruction  than  ever  before.  I  thought 
and  cared  very  little  for  religion.  1  hardened  my  heart  more 
and  still  more.  I  ceased  praying  to  the  Most  High,  and 
stopped  reading  my  Bible.  Yet,  there  were  some  of  my 
friends  who  had  not  given  me  up,  but  still  expected  me  to 
con\e  out  on  the  Lord's  side,  and  start  for  the  better  world. 

]5et  me  here  say,  that  it  appeared  to  me  the  Lord  had,  on 
'more  than  one  occasion,  told  me  what  was  to  be  my  fate — 
that  is,  so  far  as  my  becoming  a  preacher  was  concerned. 
My  father  had  two  very  old  and  faithful  servants,  who 
loved  the  Lord,  and  were  on  their  way  to  heaven  I  placed 
itnplicit  confidence  in  their  professions.  During  my  wildest 
days,  they  often  told  me  that  I  would  join  the  church  and 
become  a  preacher,  that  they  expected  to  hear  me  preach, 
and  nothing  I  could  say  would  make  them  think  otherwise. 
Their  predictions  were  fulfilled,  for  they  both  lived  to  hear 
me  preach. 

Again,  there  was  a  gentleman  of  hifl^h  standing— a  wor- 
thy minister  of  the  Baptist  church,  who  had  known  me 
from  boyhood,  and  he  often  told  me  that  he  knew  there 
was  work  for  me;  that  I  would  be  called  to  preach.  He 
also  told  me  that  he  had  been  noticing  me  for  some  time, 
and  that  the  idea  was  a  permanent  one.  I  remember  that 
one  day,  while  he  was  thus  speaking  to  me,  I  told  him  how 
little  prospect  there  was  of  that  ever  happening.  He  re- 
plied, with  a  serious  face  that  I  can  even  now  recall,  "  Cap- 
tain, you  will  have  to  ineach ;  I  have  a  lease  of  my  life  till 
that  takes  place."  That  good  man  lived  to  see  the  pleasure 
of  the  Lord  fulfilled.  I  have  had  the  happiness  to  be  with 
him  at  some  very  interesting  meetings. 

But  I  continued  on  in  the  downward  road  that  leads  to 


IN   THE   WAY    OF   TRANSGRESSORS.  23 

eternal  night  and  endless  despair.  I  remember  one  holy 
Sabbath  how  I  sinned  against  the  Lord.  What  a  great 
mercy  it  was  that  in  those  days,  he  Sto  often  bore  with  me, 
daring  my  rebellion  against  heaven.  I  had  broken  my  gun, 
and  had  to  send  it  to  a  gunsiTiith,  who  was  a  member  of  our 
church.  I  knew  when  it  would  be  finished,  and  I  went  for 
it  on  the  Sabbath.  He  did  not  wish  to  give  it  to  me  then, 
and  told  me  that  he  was  a  member  of  the  church,  and  con- 
sidered it  wrong  ;  but  I  insisted,  for  I  was  determined  to 
have  it.  On  mj^  way  home  I  rode  carelessly  by  the  church, 
where  they  were  holding  class-meeting.  'J  he  good  leader. 
Brother  Holman,  told  me  afterwards  that  he  saw  me  pass, 
but  little  thought  that  he  would  live  to  hear  me  preach  in 
that  same  church.  That  blessed  man  of  God  has  years  ago 
gone  to  the  green  fields  of  Eden  on  the  other  side  of  the 
flood.  The  old  church,  too,  has  passed  away  ;  but  I  am  still 
here,  trying  to  call  sinners  to  repentance. 

I  went  on  still  in  the  way  of  the  transgressor,  and  was 
still  exceedingly  wicked.  I  remember  to  have  wounded 
the  feelings  of  my  dear  father,  who  attempted  to  counsel 
me;  but  I  little  regarded  his  advice,  and  rushed  on  madly 
to  destruction.  I  frequently  attended  large  gatherings  at 
Methodist  churches,  particularly  at  camp-meetings,  where 
I  made  sport  at  holy  things.  I  laughed  at,  and  ridiculed, 
the  excitement  witnessed  at  such  places.  I  did  not  believe 
one  word  of  what  I  heard,  for  I  did  not  understand  it ;  and 
I  was  apparently  farther  than  ever  from  the  church. 

About  that  time  our  State  became  much  excited  on  the 
subject  of  Nullification,  and  I  became  a  warm  partizan  on 
the  Union  side.  We  had  meetings,  gave  dinners,  and  made 
speeches.  The  whole  country  was  aroused  from  the  moun- 
tains to  the  sea-board. 

Meanwhile,  my  heart  was  closed  against  all  religious 
impressions;  but  the  time  was  fast  approaching  for  my 
conviction  the  third  time — more  powerfully  than  before. 
And  ever  since  the  day  of  which  I  am  now  going  to  write, 
1  have  thought  that  that  occasion  was  to  be  the  last  offer 
of  salvation  to  me — that  mercy  would  have  been  extended 
to  me  no  more,  had  I  then  refused  to  be  saved  ;  that  my 


24  STRAY    LEAVES. 

day  of  grace  would  have  departed  never  more  to  return. 
Such  is  my  serious  conviction,  while  now  I  am  reviewing 
those  past  scenes  of  my  roving  life,  and  I  expect  to  go  to 
my  grave  with  this  &ame  solemn  belief. 

In  September,  1831,  the  annual  gathering  of  the  Metho- 
dists was  to.  take  place  at  Binnakers,  a  famous  camp  ground 
some  twelve  miles  from  my  home.  The  two  political  ])ar- 
ties  were  to  meet  at  Buford's  bridge  on  the  Saturday  after 
the  meeting,  where  they  expected  to  have  their  dinner  and 
speeches.  My  father  had  requested  me  to  make  a  few 
remarks  on  the  occasion,  which  I  had  tried  to  prepare  to 
my  satisfaction,  hoping  thereby  to  give  some  aid  to  our 
side.  lie  also  gave  me  some  pamphlets  for  distribution  at 
the  camp-meeting ;  but  requested  me  to  do  nothing  during 
service,  but  should  opportunity  offer  during  the  intervals, 
to  take  advantage  of  them.  I  went  alone  to  the  camp- 
meeting.  Taking  a  private  way,  before  reaching  the  public 
road  I  stopped,  and  repeated  to  myself  the  speech  which  I 
had  prepared  for  that  day  week,  and  then  passed  on  to  the 
camp-groun-'^,  situated  near  the  banks  of  the  Edisto.  'Twas 
a  beautiful  place,  regularly  laid  out,  which  had  been  used  as 
such  for  several  years.  Persons  attended  it  from  some  dis- 
tance ;  sometimes  from  across  the  Savannah.  The  Metho- 
dists were  there  in  great  numbers,  and  many  ministers, 
men  of  talent  and  experience,  were  present.  The  Eev. 
Henry  Bass  was  presiding  elder — a  man  much  beloved  by 
the  church. 

On  my  arrival,  after  mingling  with  the  crowd  for  some 
time,  I  concluded  that  there  was  but  little  chance  for  me  to 
work  politically.  Nevertheless,  I  made  an  effort  and  dis- 
tributed ray  pamphlets,  speaking  in  the  intervals  on  the 
subject  which  brought  me  there. 

On  Saturday  evening,  I  heard  a  portion  of  a  sermon, 
after  which  I  made  much  sport  of  the  man  of  God.  Having 
concluded  that  I  could  do  but  little  for  my  party,  I  pro- 
posed to  go  home ;  but  I  was  persuaded  by  a  much-loved 
friend  to  remain.  He  was  very  wicked,  and  I  think  if  he 
could  have  foreseen  events,  that  he  would  have  been  as 
urgent  for  me  to  leave  as  he  appeared  anxious  for  me  to 


CAMP   MEETING   AT   BI2sXAKERS.  25 

remain  ;  but  the  devil  is  much  disappointed  sometimes.  I 
guess  if  he  had  suspected  what  was  to  happen  on  the  mor- 
row, he  would  have  left  no  stone  unturned  to  get  the  young 
Captain  away  from  that  place. 

I  had,  too,  another  friend  on  the  ground,  w^hora  I  re- 
spected much,  notwithstanding  he  belongcc"  to  the  opposite 
party.  I  thought  that,  in  visiting  the  place,  he  was  promp- 
ted by  the  same  political  motive  I  was,  and  I  concluded 
that  it  would  be  to  my  advantage  could  I  persuade  him  to 
leave.  Some  one  informed  me,  that  his  wife  and  children 
were  sick  ;  so  I  believed  that  he  was  in  my  power.  I  there- 
fore approached  him  in  the  presence  of  others,  and  re- 
marked that  I  was  much  surprised  to  meet  him,  telling  him 
at  the  same  time  why  I  came,  and  acknowledging  that  I 
was  ashamed  of  myself  for  having  been  actuated  by  such  a 
motive  in  visiting  the  place.  But  I  told  him  that  I  had  no 
family,  and  that  I  left  my  father  quite  well;  while,  on  the 
other  hand,  I  had  been  told  that  he  had  left  his  family  sick, 
and  yet  came  there  to  discuss  politics  I  asked  him  if  he 
was  not  ashamed,  and  advised  him  to  return  home  imme- 
diately. He  made  no  reply  till  I  was  through  ;  so  I  con- 
cluded that  I  had  gained  the  day.  But  I  soon  discovered 
my  mistake;  for  he  replied  in  a  manner  I  never  expect  to 
for^jet.  I  was  overwhelmed  with  astonishment  as  Dr.  Ayre 
replied  very  calmly — 

"You   have  made  a  great  mistake.     I  left  my  wife  and 

children   much  better,  and  requested  Dr. "  w^ho  lived 

near,  "to  visit  them  regularly  during  my  absence." 

He  also  told  me,  that  he  did  not  come  there  to  take  part 
in  politics,  but  for  something  far  different,  that  he  had 
recently  found  out  he  was  fast  going  to  hell,  and  would  be 
lost  unless  the  Lord  saved  him  ;  that  he  came,  hoping  to 
get  religion  ;  that,  on  describing  the  state  of  his  mind  to  his 
wife,  she  advised  him  to  attend  the  meeting ;  that  he  had 
committed  his  family  to  the  Lord's  care;  and  further,  ho 
advised  me  to  follow  his  example.  He  silenced  me  at  once, 
and  I  left  and  kept  aloof  from  him  until  after  I,  too,  had 
become  convicted. 

Not  having  an  opportunity  to  work  politically,  I  became 
2 


26  sTiiAY  ij:ave.s. 

reckless,  and  behaved  much  worse  than  1  had  ever  done 
before  at  places  of  worship.  I  gathered  some  friends  around 
me— amoniij  them  the  wicked  3^oun(^  man  to  whom  I  haVe 
alluded.  We  made  up  our  minds  to  have  fine  sport.  Oh, 
my  soul !  sporting  over  the  pit,  while  the  fiery  billows  were 
raging  below.  My  friend  and  I  were  very  mu(di  attached 
to  each  other;  we  called  ourselves  "The  Two  Gentlemen  of 
Verona."  I  was  Yalentine,  ho  was  Proteus — by  which 
names  we  usuallj'  addressed  each  other.  I  behaved  so 
badly,  that  a  gentleman  present,  who  had  married  my 
sister,  after  requesting  mo  in  vain  to  desist,  finally  told  me, 
that  he  would  not  remain  in  ray  company  any  longer,  not 
even  in  the  same  tent;  that  he  knew  my  sister  would  be 
much  worried,  when  she  heard  pf  uiy  conduct.  He  left  me, 
and  I  went  on  in  my  wicked  course— not  to  be  stopped  but 
by  the  power  of  the  Most  High  Among  other  things  that 
we  did  for  pastime,  I  being  the  leader  of  the  party,  was  the 
following — the  wrong  of  w^hich  I  can  now  see.  A  gentle- 
man and  lady  of  respectability  were  present — she  was  the 
daughter  of  a  Methodist  preacher,  who  served  the  Lord 
faithfully  during  his  life.  They  were  engaged  to  be  mar- 
ried ;  I  proposed  to  my  party  that  we  could  have  fine  sport 
by  being  very  attentive  to  her,  thereby  depriving  him  of 
her  company;  and  furthermore,  to  mention  it  where  he 
could  hesir  it,  that  we  were  much  pleased  with  her.  In 
this  way,  we  anno^'od  them  very  much — walking  with 
her  alternately,  and  intruding  ourselves  whenever  we  could. 
"We  even  went  so  far  as  to  step  in  between  them,  w^hile 
they  were  walking  together,  thereby  making  him  quite 
indignant.* 

On  Sunday  morning,  a  gentleman   to   whom  I  had  just 
been  introduced — a  man    of  the    world,   requested    me   to 


*  Many  years  afterwards,  when  I  had  become  a  zealous  preacher,  I 
met  that  same  lady  at  a  meeting,  where  we  had  an  opportunity  of  con- 
versing alone.  During  the  conversation,  she  told  me  of  my  conduct  at 
Binnakers  ;  and  told  me  also,  that  whenever  she  left  the  ''stand,"  she 
went  to  the  tent  to  cry,  and  to  ask  the  Lord  to  convict  and  turn  me  from 
my  wicked  course.  You  can  imagine  how  I  felt — how  much  I  regretted 
my  conduct. 


GETTING   INTO    DIFFICULTIES.  27 

step  aside  with  him,  and,  apologizing  for  the  liberty  he  was 
taking  in  speaking  to  me  regarding  my  conduct,  he  told 
me  that  he  was  well  acquainted  with  the  gentleman  I  was 
annoying,  and  that  he  was  much  shocked  at  my  behaviour. 
He  informed  me  further,  that  unless  I  stopped,  the  gentleman 
intended  to  have  satisfaction.  He  also  requested  me  to  give 
him  my  address,  telling  me  also,  that  he  knew  that  his 
friend  would  not  submit  to  an  insult ;  and  that  he  would 
advise  me  to  desist,  or  perhaps  our  party  might  be  invited 
across  the  Savannah  river  to  settle  the  difficulty.  My  reply 
was,  that  I  was  more  determined  than  ever  to  go  on,  and 
he  left  me,  with  a  sad  face.  I  then  sought  my  friends,  and 
told  them  of  the  interview,  and  we  were  fully  resolved  to 
persist  in  spite  of  all  consequences.* 

The  8  o'clock  sermon  had  been  preached.  We  were  all 
drilled  and  prepared  for  the  execution  of  our  plan,  and  at 
the  conclusion  of  the  next  service,  it  was  to  be  my  turn  to 
annoy  the  couple — we  having  made  up  our  minds  to  be 
more  insulting  than  ever.  So  far,  I  had  not  heard  the 
whole  of  a  sermon  since  I  had  been  there.  While  our  party 
was  in  a  tent  at  lunch,  and  the  11  o'clock  service  had  been 
going  on  for  some  time,  all  at  once  I  felt  impressed  that  I 
ought  to  go  to  the  stand.  I  made  known  my  intention  to 
my  friends,  who  tried  to  persuade  me  to  remain  ;  but  I  told 
them  that  on  my  return  home  my  father  would  question 
me  about  the  meeting,  and  that  it  would  never  do  for  me 
to  tell  him  I  had  not  heard  one  sermon.  I  was  resolved  to 
go,  and  I  left  them  thinking  that  they  had  no  idea  of 
attending;  although,  soon  after  I  took  my  seat,  they  camo 
and  sat  just  behind  me,  as  I  was  afterwards  told. 

I  went  to  the  stand,  as  I  then  thought,  only  through 
respect  for  my  father.  Since  then,  however,  I  have  thought 
that  it  was  the  influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit  which  drew  me 
to  the  place  where,  as  I  now  believe,  I  was  to  have  my  last 
offer  of  mercy — if  accepted,  religion — if  refused,  no  further 

^  I  have  often  thought,  what  melancholy  results  were  arrested  by  my 
being  struck  down  by  the  power  of  the  Lord  ;  for  that  stopped  our  plan 
at  once.  I  never  met  the  gentleman  afterwards  without  feeling  ashamed 
of  myself. 


28  STRAY    LKAVES. 

olTcr ;  that  it  was  tho  Saviour  of  my  dear  Episcopalian 
mother,  long  gone  to  heaven,  about  to  give  her  prodigal 
son  his  last  hope  of  meeting  her  in  tho  green  fields  of  Eden 
when  the  warfare  of  life  is  o'er.  And  1  have  often  thought 
what  a  momentous  crisis  of  my  life  that  was — how  my 
eternal  destiny  hung  tremblingly  in  the  balance.  And  more- 
over, I  have  ever  felt  thankful,  that  I  did  not  know  who 
was  to  preach  at  that  hour-;  for  had  I  known,  perhaps  I 
never  would  have  gone,  since  it  was  the  same  proj^^lfer  of 
whom  I  had  made  sport  the  preceding  day.  I  was  much 
disappointed  when  Ifiscertained  that  he — the  Kev.  William 
Crook — was  to  preach.* 

The  text  on  the  occasion  was — "  For  the  great  day  of 
his  wrath  is  come  ;  and  who  shall  be  able  to  stand?"  And 
many  have  since  pronounced  it  to  be  the  best  sermon  that 
Brother  Crook  had  ever  preached. y  The  sermon  was  al- 
most half  over  before  I  became  interested.  The  preacher 
finally  spoke  of  those  who  will  not  stand.  He  dwelt  with 
much  force  on  this  portion  of  his  text,  and  I  felt  the  draw- 
ings from  above.  The  preacher  draws  near  the  conclusion 
of  his  sermon,  and  describes  the  day  as  now  come — the 
whole  world  now  stands  before  the  face  of  the  dread  Eter- 
nal— tho  countless  multitudes  are  judged  as  they  have 
lived — the  final  sentence  is  passed — the  crowd  is  divided  on 
right  and  left — the  last  parting  takes  place— the  father  bids 
his  son,  the  mother  her  daughter,  an  eternal  farewell.     My 


*  I  have  since  heard  more  than  one  preacher,  who  was  present,  say- 
that  the  presiding  elder,  previous  to  the  blowing  of  the  horn  to  call  the 
people  to  the  stand,  called  the  preachers  together  in  the  tent,  and  told 
them  that  the  meeting  had  not  been  as  good  as  he  expected,  and  that  he 
was  aware,  that  there  were  many  very  wicked  persons  on  the  ground  ; 
and  he  requested  them  to  engage  in  serious  prayer  before  service — which 
they  did,  not  without  experiencing  much  good,  for  the  Lord  blessed 
them,  and  it  was  from  His  presence  they  went  to  the  stand.  Those 
preachers  were  not  disappointed,  for  one  of  the  best  meetings  ever  held  at 
Binnakers  was  the  result  of  their  prayers. 

f  That  meeting  has  been  long  remembered  by  many.  Even  now  per- 
sons often  speak  to  me  of  that  time.  Eecently,  one  of  our  Bishops  told 
me,  that  he  was  there  at  the  time — a  little  boy,  only  seven  years  old — 
but  that  he  remembers  my  distressed  face  as  I  went  to  the  altar. 


BROKEN   DOWN.  29 

feelings  at  this  time  can  never  be  imagined.  Horror, 
awful,  indescribable  horror,  took  full  possession  of  my  soul. 
I  saw  myself  weighed  in  the  balance  and  found  wanting. 
I  f©U  that  my  doom  had  b^en  declared  to  me — that  I  was 
on  the  left  hand  of  the  Judge,  and  without  the  saving 
mercy  of  God  I  would  remain  there  at  the  judgment  day. 
My  sins  stared  me  in  the  face;  I  felt  that  should  I  die  at 
this  moment,  I  would  be  doomed  eternally.  I  trembled 
under  the  conviction  that  was  upon  me.  I  had  never  felt 
so  much  before  in  all  my  life.  I  thought  that  the  last  offer 
of  mercy  was  now  extended  to  me. 

The  sermon  over,  the  great  moment  of  action  arrived. 
Mourners  were  called  up.  I  had  never  before  exposed  my- 
self thus  to  even  a  few  persons.  Shall  I  now  go  up  before 
these  thousands  who  are  gazing  at  me?  Shall  I,  who  had 
been  conducting  myself  so  shamefully,  now  approach  God's 
throne  ?  Shall  I  go  up  to  be  laughed  at  by  mj^  gay  friends, 
who  will  say,  "  those  shouting  Methodists  at  Binnaivcrs  had 
you  down  at  last"  ?  But  then,  to  be  lost  for  ever  !  to  be 
separated  from  my  sainted  mother  eternally  !  I  started  for 
the  altar,  still  ashamed  of  what  I  was  doinc:.*  I  remember 
even  now,  how  ashamed  I  felt  at  that  m.oment.  You  may 
form  some  idea  of  this  when  you  are  told  that  at  first  I 
would  not  kneel ;  but  I  stood  up,  holding  on  to  a  post, 
trembling  most  violently.  My  convictions  were  overwhelm- 
ing :  while  the  others  were  kneeling  I  stood  up,  yet  ex- 
pecting every  moment  to  fall  prostrate.f  It  occurred  to 
me  that  I  had  better  kneel  than  fall ;  and  I  was  soon  on  my 
knees,  praying  for  mercy — my  proud  notions  all  gone.  My 
agony  of  soul  cannot  be  described.     I  dreaded  sinking  into 


*  Several  persons  have  since  told  me,  that  my  friend  Proteus  caught 
at  me  as  I  left,  and  that  he  barely  missed  my  coat.  I  feel  grateful  that 
he  failed ;  for  had  I  at  that  moment  met  with  the  least  resistance,  I 
would  have  yielded,  perhaps  to  my  eternal  ruin.  I  think,  that  if  he  had 
said,  "Oh,  Valentine!  'tis  your  much-loved  Proteus  who  calls  you; 
come  back,"  I  would  have  stopped. 

t  Persons  have  since  told  me  that  they  did  not  expect  me  to  keep  my 
feet  many  minutes. 


30  sti:ay  ij:aves. 

that  otenial  tiro,  and  I  resolvoil  to  ])ray  to  the  Kast — that,  if 
lost,  I  would  die  jirayin^Tor  mercy. 

The  ]irayor  was  over — all  had  loft ;  but  1  remained  pray- 
ing for  mercy,  pleading  the  name  of  Jesus,  my  only  hope, 
my  only  plea.  The  Captain  of  the  Fish-pond  Company 
remained  for  many  hours  at  the  altar,  in  hitter  agony.* 
There  I  remained  until  near  sun-down,  nor  left  till  the 
friend  whom  I  had  tried  to  induce  to  leave  the  ground — 
Dr  A.—  came  to  me,  and  asked  me  to  go  into  the  woods  with 
him,  where  the  two  friends,  now  more  closely  united  than 
ever,  conversed  together  and  advised  with  each  other  I 
felt  somewhat  relieved,  but  was  still  much  depressed  in 
spirit. f 

The  last  night  of  the  meeting  had  arrived.  So  far,  I  had 
not  thought  much  about  joining  the  church.  I  was  still 
unconverted.  The  door  of  the  church  was  opened,  and  I 
joined  it,  and  never  have  I  regretted  it.  I  had  come  out 
as  fully  from  the  world  as  I  could.  I  had  burnt  the  b'ridge 
behind  me.  I  was  in  the  way  of  salvation.  I  felt  sooie- 
thing  within  me  that  convinced  me  that  I  had  done  right. 
My  distress,  though  not  all  gone,  was  much  lessened.  I 
retired  to  rest  late  at  night.  Oh,  what  a  change!  The 
sun  rose  upon  me  that  day  so  very  wicked,  so  very  near 
the  gates  of  hell.  That  same  sun  went  down  on  me  an 
humble  mourner,  so  near  the  redemption  of  his  soul !  At  a 
very  Hte  hour  I  was  still  awake,  and  the  impression  was 
strong  upon  me,  ''  if  you  will  now,  even  at  this  late  hour, 
give  your  heart  to  God  in  earnest  prayer,  you  shall  now  be 


*  Some  gentleman  expected  me  to  dine  at  his  tent,  and  I  was  told 
afterwards  that  he  waited  for  me  for  a  long  time,  sending  a  servant  to 
inquire  for  me,  who  reported  to  him  that  I  was  still  at  the  altar. 

f  It  was  noised  abroad  that  I  had  gone  to  the  altar.  My  brother-in- 
law  afterwards  told  me,  that  "Proteus"  was  much  distressed ;  that  he 
was  seen  walking  about  much  troubled ;  that  he  asked  him  what  was 
the  matter;  and  he  replied  with  a  sigh — "  Valentine  has  left  me  ;  he  has 
started  for  heaven,  and  Proteus  is  not  ready  to  go  with  him."  I  suspect 
as  soon  as  I  went  to  the  altar,  my  mother  saw  me,  and  blessed  her  Lord 
that  her  prodigal  son  was  coming  home  to  the  church;  and  that  her 
spirit  hovered  over  me  in  all  my  agony,  and  was  near  to  rejoice  when 
my  sins  were  forgiven. 


JOINING   THE   CHUPwCH.  31 

converted,  your  sins  forgiven."  It  seemed  to  me  that  the 
spirit  of  my  mother  was  whispering  to  her  son  to  pray, 
that  the  Lord  would  bless  him.  I  was  on  my  knees  again 
directly,  and  I  then  and  there  received  the  blessing,  though 
not  in  all  its  fullness.  A  sweet  peace  came  over  me,  which 
no  unrenewed  heart  has  ever  felt.  A  blessed  calm  filled  my 
soul.  My  troubles,  my  sorrows  were  gone.  My  mother 
seemed  to  whisper  to  me,  "Son,  did  I  not  tell  you  so!" 
Oh,  that  never  to  be  forgotten  hour!  I  was  blessed.  I  was 
converted.  The  prodigal  had  returned  to  his  heavenly 
Father-  that  Father  had  thrown  his  arms  around  his  neck, 
and  had  welcomed  him  with  a  kiss  of  love. 

My  friend,  Dr.  Ayer,  seemed  quite  surprised  at  my  joining 
the  church,  as  I  did  not  tell  him  that  I  was  going  to  do  so. 
He  had  informed  me  that  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  do 
80,  but  did  not  know  when ;  that  perhaps  several  months 
would  pass  before  he  would  be  able  to  do  it.  But  he  now 
said,  that  if  he  had  been  present  when  I  joined,  he  would 
have  gone  with  me,  and  appeared  much  pleased  that  I  had 
done  so.  The  next  morning  he  concluded  that  he  could  not 
wait  any  longer,  and  he  joined  also. 

On  Monday  morning.  Brother  Bass  called  up  all  who 
thought  they  had  been  blessed  at  the  meeting.  We  both 
went  forward  among  the  happy  number.  Oh  !  how  happy 
I  was  when  I  left  the  camp  ground,  having  been  blessed 
again  at  the  last  prayer.  I  set  out  for  home,  exulting  in 
the  forgiveness  of  my  sins  ;  the  love  of  the  Lord  was  shed 
abroad  in  my  blood-washed  soul.  Hell  had  been  defeated  ; 
Heaven  had  won  the  glorious  day.  There  is  joy  in  heaven 
over  the  conversion  of  one  sinner. 

Now  let  us  follow  those  young  converts,  the  Doctor  and 
the  Captain,  rejoicing  on  their  homeward  journey.  How 
they  commune,  and  converse,  and  exult  together,  happy  in 
the  blessed  hope  of  heaven.  After  riding  thus  for  some  dis- 
tance, the  young  Captain  was  struck  very  forcibly  with  the 
thought  that  perhaps  his  father  would  not  approve  of  his 
joining  the  church  without  first  consulting  him;  for  though 
not  a  member,  he  had  a  strong  preference  for  the  Episcopal 
church.     This  thought  troubles   him,  and   he  concludes  to 


32  STRAY    LEAVES. 

say  notliing  about  his  having;  joined,  but  to  let  his  changed 
courso  speak  for  him.  His  iriend  asks,  if  he  is  going  to  tell 
his  father  at  once,  or  to  wait.  IIo  replies,  that  ho  will  not 
broach  the  subject  for  some  time.  What  a  picture  is  now 
presented !  It  is  now  time  for  the  two  young  converts  to 
part,  as  their  roads  separate  here — having  just  crossed  the 
Cedar  Spring  ford  The  Captain  will  now  turn  to  the  left ; 
the  Doctor  will  continue  in  the  same  road.  Dr.  A.  takes 
his  friend  by  the  hand,  and  says  to  him,  "I  will  not  leave 
you,  until  you  promise  to  tell  your  father  as  soon  as  you 
reach  home — even  before  you  have  your  horse  put  up  ;"  and 
he  hold  his  hand  until  he  gave  the  desired  promise,  telling 
him  at  the  same  time  to  continue  to  ride  at  the  same  gait 
at  which  they  had  been  travelling,  so  that  he  could  form  an 
idea  when  he  would  reach  home.  He  tells  him,  "  When  I 
think  you  are  telling  your  father,  I  will  be  engaged  in 
prayer  in  your  behalf.  I  am  convinced  that  all  will  bo 
right  "  We  part ;  and  I  ride  on  slowly,  feeling  happy,  and 
trying  to  sing.  Unfortunately,  I  belong  to  that  class  who 
cannot  raise  a  tune  ;  still  I  try  to  sing — 

"  Jesus,  my  all,  to  heaven  is  gone, 
He  v/hom  I  fix  my  hopes  upon." 

I  reach  the  place  where  I  delivered  my  political  speech 
to  the  trees  on  Saturday  last.  There  I  stop,  dismount,  and 
fall  on  my  knees,  thanking  the  Lord  for  what  he  has  done, 
and  begging  for  more  grace.  1  set  out  again  as  agreed 
upon,  sometimes  thinking  that  my  father  will  be  angry 
with  me,  and  then  again  hoping  for  the  best.  Although  I 
have  not  been  a  member  of  the  church  quite  a  day,  still 
I  put  much  confidence  in  prayer,  and  expect  my  friend  will 
soon  be  remembering  me  before  the  throne  of  grace.  I  at 
last  reach  home,  and  hitch  my  horse  without  taking  off  the 
saddle,  and  then  proceed  to  the  house,  and  tell  my  father 
what  has  taken  place,  at  the  same  time  begging  him  to  for- 
give me  for  all  I  had  ever  done  to  wound  his  feelings.  He 
is  much  moved,  and  forgives  me  all  -telling  me  he  had 
heard  of  it  before  I  got  home.  He  told  me,  that  he  would 
have  preferred  my  joining  the  church  of  his  choice,  but  that 


LICENSED   AND   OEDAINED.  33 

next  to  that,  he  liked  the  Methodist  church;  and  that  he 
hoped  I  would  do  well,  and  that  the  Lord  would  bless  me. 
He  told  me  also,  that  he  had  seen  some  of  his  friends  that 
day,  who  thought  he  was  sorry  I  had  joined  the  Methodist 
church,  and  that  they  told  him  they  had  clubbed  together, 
and  woi-'ld  have  me  back  in  the  world  in  six  months  at  most. 
But  my  father  said,  he  hoped  that,  with  the  help  of  the 
Lord,  l  would  disappoint  them.  I  knew  that  I  alone  could 
not  resist  them.  More  than  thirty  five  years  (October,  1866) 
have  passed  |?y,  and  I  am  still  in  the  church,^  and  I  hope  on 
my  way  to  heaven. 

Before  my  six  months'  probation  had  passed,  I  was  ap- 
pointed junior  class-leader  by  Brother  Adams,  at  Pine  Grove 
church,  to  which  allusion  has  already  been  made.  Brother 
Dunwody  received  me  into  full  connection  ;  I  remember  the 
occasion  well.  He  told  me,  that  they  were  satisfied  with 
me;  but  that  if  I  desired  to  withdraw  my  name  I  was  at 
liberty  to  do  so.  With  tears  in  my  eyes  I  told  him,  that 
my  wish  was  to  live  and  die  with  them. 

I  remained  class-leader  for  some  time,  and  after  the  lapse 
of  some  years  I  began  to  exhort ;  but  I  was  in  the  church 
for  several  years  before  I  was  licensed  to  preach,  which  was 
I  think  thirty-one  years  last  July.  As  my  papers  were 
burned  some  five  years  ago,  I  may  have  forgotten  some  of 
the  dates.  I  think  Bishop  Andrew  ordained  me  deacon,  in 
Camden,  in  the  year  1840,  and  four  years  after  I  was  or- 
dained elder  by  Bishop  Soule,  in  Columbia.  I  owe  all  that 
I  am  to  my  Heavenly  Father,  to  whose  name  be  all  the 
glory.  I  have  again  and  again  said  and  done  things  for 
which  I  have  felt  very  sorry  afterwards ;  but  I  hope  that 
my  blessed  Saviour  has  forgiven  me  all. 


LEAF  THE  FOUETH. 

THE  DREAM  THAT  WAS  REPEATED;  AND  HOW-  DR  S WAS 

CONVICTED  AND  CONVERTED. 

More  than  thirty-one  years  ago  (186G),  there  was  a  gen- 
tleman, a  phj'sician  of  much  intelligence,  well  known  to  me, 
and  I  respected  him  very  much.  I  will  call  him  Dr.  S. 
Though  he  was  an  upright  man,  and  highly  respected  in 
his  neighborhood,  he  was  not  a  member  of  the  church,  and 
very  seldom  attended  our  church.  ,  At  that  time  I  was  an 
exhorter,  and  I  often  wished  that  the  Doctor  had  religion  ; 
for  we  met  frequently,  and  usually  spent  our  time  very 
pleasantly  together,  and  I  thought  that  if  he  were  a  Chris- 
tian it  would  be  a  great  help  to  me.  I  had  often  desired  to 
speak  to  him  on  the  subject,  but  at  that  time  I  was  young 
in  the  cause,  and  I  dreaded  ^he  opposition  with  which  I 
might  meet ;  for  I  was  easily  repulsed  if  I  met  with  a  smile 
of  ridicule  or  contempt,  and  was  afraid  of  making  him  more 
distant  towards  me,  should  I  fail  in  persuading  him  to  come 
out  on  the  Lord's  side. 

What  I  am  now  relating  happened  so  long  ago  that  I 
cannot  recall  to  mind  all  the  incidents  connected  therewith, 
but  those  of  most  importance  can  never  be  forgott<^n. 

Time  passed  on  thus  for  years,  with  Dr.  S.  and  myself, 
when  one  night  J[  dreamed  that  I  saw  the  Saviour,  as  I  had 
once  seen  him  in  a  dream  years  before.  He  was  standing 
quite  near  me,  as  described  in  the  book  of  Revelation,  and 
said  to  me,  speaking  of  my  friend  Dr.  S.,  ''  Unless  he  gets 
religion,  and  joins  the  church  in  twelve  months,  when  he 
dies,  he  will  be  lost." 

The  vision  vanished.  I  was  very  much  impressed,  and 
slept  but  little  during  the  rest  of  the  night.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  I  must  tell  the  Doctor  about  it — that  it  was  the 
Lord's  will  that  I  should  do  so.  I  knew  not  what  to  do. 
I  dreaded  beino:  laughed  at.  Oh!  how  well.  I  remember 
that  day,  and  how  I  tried  to  pray  for  him.  The  next  night, 
strange  to  say,  I  dreamed  the  same  thing  again.     My  feel- 


A    DUTY    NEGLECTED.  35 

ings  cannot  now  be  told.     It  seemed  to  me  more  than  ever 
that  I  ought  to  tell  him  about  it. 

I  have  often  thought  the  Lord  brought  Dr.  S.  to  see  me 
the  next  morning,  that  I  might  tell  him  the  dream;  for  soon 
after  breakfast  he  rode  up,  and  asked  me  to  ride  with  him. 
We  were  alone  for  several  hours — my  thoughts  dwelling  on 
the  solemn  dream.  Duty  prompted  me  to  tell  him.  I  made 
many  efforts  to  do  so,  but  failed  each  time,  being  afraid  of 
being  laughed  at  or  repulsed  in  some  way.  The  Doctor 
saw,  and  said,  that  something  was  on  my  mind.  I  told  him 
he  was  right ;  but  even  then  I  dreaded  to  tell  him.  Wo 
travelled  on.  I  have  seldom  had  such  an  unpleasant  ride. 
At  last  he  said,  that  he  knew  I  was  much  troubled,  and  felt 
hurt  that  I  would  not  tell  ^him  the  cause,  as  he  thought  he 
was  entitled  to  my  confidence.  Even  then  I  could  not 
speak  of  it.  Thus  we  parted.  I  was  much  cast  down,  and 
felt  that  I  had  done  wrong,  and  was  sorry  for  it.  I  have 
always  being  willing  to  bear  with  persons,,  who,  when  they 
first  join  the  church,  are  timid  and  dread  to  take  up  the 
cross;  for  I  remember  so  well  my  neglecting  to  do  my  duty, 
being  afraid  of  being  laughed  at.  I  was  in  the  church  for 
years,  before  I  would  hold  family  prayers  in  the  presence  of 
persons  who  were  not  members.  I  would  wait  until  after 
they  had  retired,  and  then  do  that  which  ought  to  have 
been  done  before  them.  When  I  recall  the  past,  I  see  so 
many  things  which  I  regret^ — so  much  want  of  Christian 
fortitude  and  firmness — so  maiay  duties  neglected — and  so 
~many  things  done,  for  which  I  felt  sorry  afterwards. 

Dr.  S.  and  I  parted  ;  and  for  a  long  time  I  prayed  for  him 
twice  daily  ;  but  after  a  while  I  ceased  praying  so  often, 
and  the  time  came  when  I  did  not  pray  for  him  individually 
in  my  private  devotions.  The  twelve  months  were  passing 
away.  I  sometimes  thought  of  my  dream,  and  felt  very 
sadly;  but  the  Lord  was  then  drawing  the  Doctor  to  liim- 
self.  He  had  a  servant  who  ran  away,  and  was  taken  up 
and  put  in  jail,  some  distance  from  home.  He  heard  of  it 
through  the  papers.     He  left  for  the  place,  which  I  will  call 

E ,  where,  not  many  years  before,  there  had  been  quite 

an  outpouring  of  the  Holy  Spirit.     Yery  many  persons  had 


36  STKAY    LEAVES. 

boon  converted,  and  luid  joined  the  church.  The  good  im- 
pression made  then  was  not  all  gone,  and  the  citizens  often 
mot  in  difTorcnt  houses  for  singing  and  prayer.  Now,  it  so 
happened  that  Dr.  S.  arrived  in  town  on  ono  of  thoso 
evenings  devoted  to  prayer.  lie  told  mo,  tliat  he  w^as 
seriously  affected  by  the  singing,  and  wished  that  ho  had 
reliirion.  IIo  found  when  he  arrived  at  the  friend's  house 
where  he  expected  to  spend  the  night,  that  the  prayer- 
meeting  was  to  be  there,  and  not  feeling  worthy  to  remain 
with  them,  he  went  to  the  hotel — thinking  that  if  he  only 
lived  in  E ,  he  would  get  religion. 

One  day  some  time  afterward,  he  dined  with  me.  Ho 
observed  to  me  suddenly,  that  he  had  a  great  mind  to  go  to 

E to  live.     I  asked  if  he  was  going  there  for  the  health 

of  his  family?  He  said,  no.  I  then  inquired  if  he  was 
going  there  to  practice  medicine?  He  replied,  that  in  that 
respect  he  would  do  better  to  remain  where  he  was.  Up  to 
this  moment  I  had  no  thought  of  his  being  under  serious 
impressions  ;  and  was  much  surprised  when  he  said  very 
seriously,  that  if  he  could  live  there  for  three  months  he 
would  be  converted  ;  and  that  he  would  give  the  world,  if 
he  had  it,  for  religion.  I  was  overwhelmed  with  astonish- 
ment. I  remained  silent  for  some  time,  but  replied  after  a 
while,  "You  can  get  religion  at  home  just  as  well  as  there." 

He  could  not  believe  it;  but  said,  he  thought  E was  the 

best  place  in  the  world.  All  this  was  so  unexpected,  that  I 
failed  to  improve  the  opportunity  of  speaking  to  him  on  the 
subject  he  had  introduced.  We  separated  without  my  say- 
ing anything  more;  but  in  my  secret  soul  I  felt  thankful, 
and  afterwards  I  began  to  pray  for  him  frequently. 

Some  time  after  this,  he  attended  one  of  our  camp-meet- 
ings, and  became  seriously  impressed,  and  wentto  the  altar 
for  prayer.  He  went  home  without  experiencing  a  change, 
but  deeply  convicted,  and  began  holding  familj^  prayer.  He 
afterwards  told  me  how  much  surprised  he  was,  that  I  did 
not  speak  to  him  on  the  subject  of  religion  while  at  my 
house  —that  he  fully  expected  me  to  do  so,  and  was  much 
disappointed  that  I  failed  to  do  so,  expecting  to  be  invited 
there  to  prayer  meetings ;  and   he   said  he  thought  me  a 


DOCTOR   S IS    (X)NVERTED.  37 

poor  cxhorter.  Thus  was  I  reproved,  and  I  embraced  the 
offered  opportunity,  and  spoke  for  my  blessed  Master.  I 
told  him  that  I  would  be  glad  to  see  him  at  my  house  on 
such  a  day,  which  was  near  at  hand — that  I  expected  a 
brother-exhorter  to  be  present  on  that  day,  and  that  we 
would  have  a  prayer-meeting  for  him.  He  said  he  would 
bo  glad  to  come.  He  said  he  thought  that  a  great  difficulty 
with  him  would  be,  that  he  did  not  believe  in  the  Saviour 
as  he  ought  to  do— that  for  years  he  ha'd  been  praying  to 
the  Father,  but  not  to  the  Son,  and  when  that  difficulty 
was  removed  he  thought  he  could  get  religion.  Thus  wo 
knew  how  to  advise  him  and  pray  for  him. 

On  the  appointed  night,  Dr.  S.  was  there,  much  dis- 
tressed. The  wife  of  one  of  our  preachers  was  with  us. 
She  was  a  sweet  singer.  We  had  a  good  meeting.  My 
brother-exhorter  was  a  good  man,  full  of  faith,  and  spoke 
much  to  the  point  while  addressing  the  Doctor — who 
complained  of  a  great  oppression  in  his  chest.  After  a 
while,  he  begged  us  to  walk  out  with  him-  When  on  the 
road,  he  requested  us  to  pray  for  him  right  there,  and  knelt 
down,  his  heart  almost  broken.  We  remained  with  him  for 
more  than  hour,  and  then  •  told  him,  as  it  was  quite  late, 
perhaps  he  had  best  go  home,  as  his  family  might  become 
uneasy.  I  told  him  that  such  a  preacher  would  be  at  our 
house  on  a  certain  night,  and  that  he  must  come,  and  wo 
would  have  prayer  for  him  again. 

The  appointed  time  had  come,  and  the  preacher  was 
present,  it  was  a  lovely  night  j  the  virgin  moon  shone 
most  beautifully.     As  the  sweet  Swan  of  Avon  would  say — 

"She  tipped  with  silver  all  the  fruit-tree  tops." 

Dr.  S.  arrived,  more  distressed  if  possible,  than  before. 
The  same  scenes  were  passed  through  again  :  we  sang  and 
prayed  tor  some  time.  Dr.  S.  being  most  powerfully  im- 
pressed. He  begged  us  to  go  out  with  him  again,  and 
proposed  another  direction.  He  was  so  troubled  that  he 
could  not  walk  alone,  and  we  supported  him  on  each  side. 

"  Doctor,"  said  the  preacher,  "  what  would  you  give  for 
religion  ?" 


38  STKAY   LEAVES. 

*' Sir,"  paid  he,  '*  I  will  give  my  wife  i\n<\  two  children; 
and  the  Lord  only  knows  how  I  love  them  " 

He  would  have  fallen,  had  we  not  been  holding  him. 
"Doctor,"  said  the  preacher,  "  3-011  are  very  near  conver- 
sion; there  is  but  one  step  between  you  and  salvation." 
Dr.  S.  said  he  had  been  laboring  for  some  time  under  a 
groat  oppression  in  his  breast;  that  he  had  been  thinking 
a  strong  dose  of  calomel  would  relieve  him.  I  suspect  only 
myself  and  the  virgin  moon  saw  the  sligiit  smile  which 
passed  over  the  preacher's  face  as  he  said,  "  Doctor,  'tis 
religion  you  want;  the  weight  will  be  removed  when  the 
Lord  blesses  your  soul,  which  I  believe  he  will  soon  do." 

We  went  only  a  few  yards  farther,  when  he  fell  on  his 
knees,  and  the  preacher  prayed  for  him,  and  he  felt  that  his 
sins  were  forgiven.  We  arose  from  our  knees,  and  he 
threw  his  arms  around  the  preacher's  neck,  and  said,  ''  Oh, 
sirLyou  do  not  know  how  much  I  love  you."  Then  Dr.  S. 
exulted  aloud;  he  was.  very  happy,  and  we  rejoiced  with 
him.  On  our  way  from  the  house  we  had  to  support  him^ 
he  could  not  walk  for  the  sorrow  of  his  heart ;  on  our  re- 
turn, we  still  supported  him,  he  could  not  walk  then  for  the 
joy  of  his  soul.  I  regard  that  night  as  one  of  the  happiest 
of  my  life.  As  we  passed  on  to  the  house  the  preacher  said, 
<' JNow,  Doctor,  how  about  that  oppression  at  the  heart?" 
Dr.  S.  replied,  with  a  heavenly  smile,  which  I  see  even  now 
upon  his  face,  "  Oh  !  sir,  it  is  all  gone." 

We  had  arrived  at  the  steps  ;  he  was  perfectly  carried 
away  with  his  happy  emotions.  Just  as  we  were  on  the  top. 
step,  the  Doctor  shouted  aloud.  We  entered  the  house,  and 
Dr.  S.,  in  passing  across  the  room,  came  near  falling;  but 
he  approached  my  wife,  and  shook  her  hand  heartily,  say- 
ing, "  Oh !  I  feel  so  happy."  He  said,  it  was  much  easier 
to  get  religion  than  he  thought  it  was ;  it  was  only  to  give 
your  heart  to  the  Lord. 

Some  days  after  this,  my  wife  said  to  me,  "  How  about 
that  dream?" — some  ten  months  having  transpired  since  I 
had  the  dream.  But  Dr.  S.  had  been  converted,  and  was 
rejoicing  in  his  God. 


LEAF  THE  FIFTH. 

HOW  DR.  S JOINED  THE    CHURCH — AND  THE  MERCHANT    DID 

NOT     SELL     THE     HEAVY    BILL     THAT    DAY     AS     WAS     EX- 
PECTED. 

Dr  S.  Had  been  happily  converted,  and  the  oppression  at 
his  heart  was  all  gone,  and  he  rejoiced  in  the  great  hope  of 
his  salvation.  He  told  me,  that  on  that  famous  night  while 
going  home,  it  appeared  to  him  that  he  was  stepping  higher 
than  the  trees  along  the  road.  He  asked  me  if  I  remem- 
bered having  spoken  to  him  on  the  subject  of  religion,  in 
his  own  house,  and  in  my  eagerness  placing  my  hand  on  his 
shoulder,  and  that  he  turned  suddenly  round,  with  his  back 
to  me  I  told  him  that  I  remembered  it  well ;  and  that  my 
reason  for  leaving  so  soon  afterwards,  was  because  I  thought 
liis  feelings  were  wounded^  He  said  his  reason  lor  turning 
from  me  was  to  conceal  his  emotion,  for  he  was  weeping 
while  he  had  his  face  turned  away  ;  that  had  he  followed 
his  inclination  he  would  then  have  asked  me  to  pray 
for  him. 

The  great  object  of  Dr.  S.  now  was  the  salvation  of  his 
much-loved  wife.  He  often  told  me  of  his  anxiety  on  her 
account.  She  appeared  rather  indifferent ;  but  we  often 
prayed  in  her  behalf.  I  sometimes  went  over  and  had 
prayer  at  his  house  ;  and  thus  things  remained  for  some 
time.  This  was  prior  to  his  joining  the  church  ;  his  family 
believed  in  another  communion,  and  I  said  nothing  to  him 
on  the  subject,  thinking  that .  they  might  conclude  I  was 
trjnng  to  persuade  him  to  unite  with  our  church.  During 
my  whole  life,  I  have  ever  been  careful  on  that  point — al- 
ways counselling  friends  to  join  the  church  of  their  choice; 
notwithstanding  I  have  always  been  glad  to  have  persons 
unite  with  our  church — doubly  so,  when  I  thought  they 
w^ould  become  a  help  to  us,  with  the  blessing  of  God.  Some 
months  after  this,  Dr.  S.  told  me  he  had  made  up  his  mind 
to  join  our  church — knowing  full  well  that  some  of  his 
near  relatives  would  object  to  his  doing  so  ;  one  particularly 


40  STRAY   LEAVES. 

would  bo  much  luirt,  and  it  would  bo  a  groat  crosa  for  him 
to  take  up;  but  he  would  put  his  trust  in  the  Lord,  and  go 
where  his  heart  was.  He,  however,  said  nothing  to  his 
wife  about  it,  wishing  it  to  bo  kept  a  profound  secret,  and 
w^anting  to  take  her  by  surprise.  He  said  he  wanted  her  to; 
go  with  him  ;  that  he  would  be  much  hurt  if  she  joined  any 
other  church,  and  he  requested  me  to  say  nothing  about  it  to 
any  one  except  my  wife.  He  did  not  know  when  he  could 
unite  with  us,  as  he  wanted  liis  wife  to  be  present  when  ho 
did  so.  He  thought  a  sudden  surprise  would  make  a  good 
impression  on  her,  and  perhaps  she  herself  might  unite  with 
the  church  at  the  same  time,  or  soon  afterwards. 

He  told  me  finally,  one  day,  that  his  wife  had  at  last  pro- 
mised to  go  to  church  with  him,  not  knowing  what  were 
his  intentions.  He  also  wanted  my  wife  to  go  with  us. 
Soaie  time  after,  the  Doctor's  wife  told  mine  that  she  had 
no  idea  why  her  husband  was  so  anxious  to  have  her  go 
with  him  on  that  occasion  ;  that  he  begged  her  very  hard  to 
go,  telling  her  he  would  give  her  anything  she  wanted  ;  and 
that  she  finally  promised  to  accompany  him,  provided  he 
would  let  her  go  to  a  store  near  by,  and  buy  anything  she 
wanted.  He  promised  to  let  her  do  so,  if  she  would  first  go 
with  him  to  church.  She  said  she  had  made  up  her  mind 
to  get  a  great  many  things,  whether  she  needed  them  or 
not ,  and  that  she  rather  thought  he  would  have  a  heavy 
bill  to  pay  that  day.  The  day  arrived,  and  we  went  to  the 
church — situated  near  the  Edisto  river.  The  preacher  had 
not  yet  arrived,  and  we  were  much  disappointed.  There 
were  not  many  persons  present,  but  among  them  was  the 
exhorter  at  our  first  prayer-meeting  held  in  behalf  of  Dr.  S. 
We  were  told  that  the  preacher  would  not  come,  and  Bro- 
C.  and  myself  had  to  conduct  the  meeting.  Several  per- 
sons bad  come  out  for  the  purpose  of  joining  the  church, 
and  did  not  wish  to  wait  any  longer,  and  they  requested  us 
to  open  the  door,  which  we  concluded  to  do.  AYe  agreed  to 
conduct  the  meeting  thus  : — Brother  C.  was  to  open  with 
prayer,  giving  each  one  an  opportunity  to  relate  his  ex- 
perience, after  which  we  would  have  an  exhortation  and 
prayer,  and  then  open  the  doors,  which  would  conclude  the 


^ 


DOCTOR   S JOIjS'S   THE   CHURCH.  41 

service.  The  blessed  Spirit  was  present,  and  we  had  a  glo- 
rious time.  First  one  and  then  another,  would  tell  us  what 
the  Lord  had  done  for  them.  I  spoke  to  the  Doctor's  wife 
about  religion ;  she  ajDpeared  provoked,  and  I  left  her.  She 
afterwards  said,  she  never  was  so  angi-jj^in  her  life  as  then, 
to  think  that  I  should  presume  to  speak  to  her  in  the  church 
concerning  her  soul !  The  meeting  went  on  under  the  blessed 
influences  of  the  Holy  Spirit ;  we  were  sitting  in  heavenly 
places.  I  no  longer  thought  of  speaking  to  Dr.  S.'s  wife  ; 
she  was  sitting  on  the  opposite  side,  looking  very  defiantly. 
She  afterwards  said,  she  was  determined  to  show  the  Metho- 
dists that  day  that  she  would  not  be  moved — that  she  would 
not  shed  a  tear ;  no,  she  would  not ;  and  that  she  was  deter- 
mined the  Doctor  should  have  a  heavy  bill  to  pay  for  bring- 
ing her  there  that  day. 

The  time  for  those  who  wanted  to  join  had  come.  While 
the  hymn  was  being  sung,  Dr.  S.  came  forward ;  then  fol- 
lowed a  venerable  man,  and  then  others.  I  then  turned  to 
look  at  the  Doctor's  wife.  She  had  fallen  from  her  seat, 
overpowered  with  strong  emotions.  She  told  her  friends 
afterwards,  that  she  was  never  so  sui-prised  in  her  life.  Her 
first  thought  was — "If  he  had  only  told  me  of  his  intentions, 
I  would  have  gone  with  him;"  but  the  second  thought  which 
occurred  was — "You  are  unworthy  to  do  so;  for  did  you  not 
get  very  vexed  just  now,  when  spoken  to  about  religion  ?" 

After  this,  we  remained  in  church  for  some  time,  singing 
and  praying.  I  will  not  try  to  describe  the  feelings  of  the 
Doctor ;  for  who  can  tell  the  thoughts  of  his  heart  ?  The 
meeting  was  then  closed ;  but  the  store  was  not  visited ;  the 
merchant  did  not  sell  the  heavy  bill ;  for  the  Doctor's  wife 
appeared  as  much  troubled  as  he  had  been  while  under  con- 
viction— he  having  to  support  her  as  she  left  the  church. 
She  went  home  in  great  agony  of  soul ;  but  at  last  found  the 
pearl  of  great  price,  and  united  herself  with  the  church. 


LEAF  THE  SJXTII. 

DR.    S — 4h    1^'    ni«    FIRST    LOVE-FEAST. 

Dr.  S.  and  his  wife  were  now  united  together  in  the  Lord, 
and  we  were  united  with  a  few  others,  who  loved  the  Lord,- 
in  having  meetingn  sometimes,  where  we  enjoyed  ourselves 
in  singing  and  praying.  In  some  respects,  the  Doctor  dif- 
fered from  myself  and  others  around  him.  He  said  we  ought 
to  enjoy  ourselves  in  a  calm,  silent  way — that  it  was  better 
thus  to  pass  along  through  an  unfriendly  world  to  glory 
and  to  heaven.  When  alone,  he  often  spoke  to  me  on  this 
subject;  but  I  thought  there  was  no  harm  for  a  man,  whose 
sins  the  Lord  had  forgiven,  when  he  felt  so  inclined,  to  shout 
aloud  and  praise  his  God — knowing  that  the  old  saints  thus 
praised  their  Maker,  there  being  proof  of  this  in  holy  vrrit. 
We  often  spoke  of  our  difference  of  opinion,  but  always  in  a 
friendly  manner.  He  told  me,  he  knew  he  had  praised  the 
Lord  aloud  when  he  was  converted,  but  that  was  an  extra- 
ordinary occasion,  and  he  could  not  help  himself.  He  did 
not  think,  though,  that  he  would  ever  be  so  moved  again ; 
for  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  pass  through  this  life  very 
gently — manifesting  no  violent  emotions  at  any  time — that 
no  one  should  ever  know  he  had  religion,  unless  they  saw  it 
in  his  changed  life. 

Thus  things  passed  on — the  Doctor  happy  in  his  Saviour's 
love.  Some  time  after  this,  there  was  to  be  a  two  days' 
meeting  near  by,  and  I  prayed  for,  and  expected,  a  gracious 
outpouring  of  the  Spirit.  Some  time  before,  the  Doctor  said 
to  me,  "  I  expect  you  will  speak  in  the  love-feast."  I  replied 
that  I  expected  to,  as  I  had  never  been  in  one  without  say- 
ing something  for  the  Lord.  He  thought  it  but  right  that 
preachers,  class-leaders,  and  exhorters  should  speak  if  they 
felt  like  it;  but  other  members  ought  not  to  say  anything; 
that  he  expected  to  enjoy  himself  as  much  as  any  one  who 
would  be  there,  but  had  made  up  his  mind  never  to  speak  in 
love-feast ;  that  as  he  sailed  along  the  river  of  life  there 
would  be  no  noise,  no  ripple  in  the  water;   that  persons 


DOCTOR  S BEGINS  TO  GIVE  WAY.        43 

would  never  find  out  that  he  had  religion,  if  they  depended 
on  his  speaking  in  public.  I  told  him  I  thought  his  friends 
would  be  glad  to  hear  him  speak  in  love-feast ;  but  to  do  as 
he  thought  best. 

The  time  for  the  meeting  at  the  chapel  arrived.  Let  us 
imagine  that  holy  Sabbath  morning,  more  than  thirty  years 
ago.  The  hour  for  love-feast  had  come — there  being  a  good 
turn-out  for  the  neighborhood.  That  blessed  man  of  God — 
that  primitive  Methodist  minister — Brother  Bass,  conducted 
the  meeting,  other  ministers  being  present.  The  house  was 
closed,  and  singing  and  prayer  were  over;  the  exhortation 
had  been  gone  through  with,  and  the  bread  and  water  were 
being  passed  round  ;  and  our  never-to-be-forgotten  love-feast 
had  a  happy  beginning.  Brother  Bass  told  us  something  of 
the  dealings  of  the  Lord  with  him — of  his  long  course  of 
trials  and  sorrows.  The  tears  stole  down  the  veteran's  face 
as  he  begged  us  to  pray  for  him,  and  told  us  of  the  strong 
hope  he  had  of  reaching  the  happy  land,  where  all  is  peace 
and  joy  for  evermore.  In  conclusion,  he  told  us  he  would 
be  glad  to  hear  from  any  of  us  how  we  were  coming  on,  on 
our  way  to  glory.     There  was  much  feeling  among  us. 

I  remembered  what  Dr.  S.  had  said,  and  glanced  at  him. 
He  seemed  to  be  under  some  emotion,  but  looked  as  if  he 
had  made  up  his  mind  to  master  it.  Another  preacher  arose, 
and  carried  us  back  to  his  early  life,  when  he  was  a  wicked, 
graceless  youth,  bound  for  perdition,  without  Christ  and 
hope.  He  spoke  of  his  praying  mother,  who  often  told  him 
of  the  love  of  the  Saviour ;  and  that  he  was  at  last  made  to 
see  his  condition,  and  knew  there  was  no  hope  for  him  but 
through  the  redemption  of  God ;  but  that  one  day,  which  he 
could  never  forget, the  Lord  pardoned  him. 

Some  one  then — Brother  Holman,  I  think — sung  a  few 
lines  of  a  beautiful  hymn  ;  and  there  was  then  a  shout  in  the 
camp.  I  again  glanced  at  Dr.  S.,  who  appeared  so  much  ex- 
cited that  he  could  not  keep  still. 

I  then  arose,  and  had  much  to  say  of  what  the  Holy  One 
of  Israel  had  done  for  my  poor  soiil.  I  spoke  of  my  mother, 
who  I  knew  was  in  heaven.  I  alluded  to  my  past  life — spoke 
of  my  wickedness  during  my  first  years :  that  before  that 


44  STRAY    LEAVJvS. 

memorable  meetin*;  iit  BiimakcrH  J  had  been  extremely 
wicked;  but  that  I  was  then  ])Oweriully  convicted,  and 
joined  the  church  before  I  got  reli^rion,  but  was  noon  after 
converted.  1  told  them  I  expected  to  get  to  heaven,  and 
knew  I  would  there  meet  my  Bainted  mother.  After  which, 
1  asked  an  interest  in  their  prayerH,  and  eat  down. 

Dr.  S.  was  under  powerful  impressions,  but  was  trying 
hard  to  retain  his  seat — holding  on  to  the  bench  in  front 
with  both  hands.  There  seemed  to  be  a  giant  effort  on  his 
part  to  adhere  to  his  determination  not  to  say  anything  in 
his  first  love-feast.  We  had  a  blessed  time ;  the  Lord  was 
in  his  holy  temple,  and  his  servants  were  exulting  in  the 
God  of  their  salvation.  Another  beautiful  hymn  was  sung 
by  Brother  H.,  and  we  had  another  shout  in  the  camp.  An- 
other member  then  got  up,  but  was  so  excited  that  he  could 
not  say  much ;  he  told  us  though  of  his  boundless  love  for 
the  Saviour,  and  hoped  he  would  never  return  to  the  world, 
preferring,  if  it  was  the  Lord's  will,  to  die  rather  than  back- 
slide and  quit  the  church. 

I  again  glanced  at  the  Doctor,  who  was  still  holding  on  to 
the  bench,  looking  as  if  he  would  soon  fall  prostrate.  There 
was  another  shout  and  clapping  of  hands,  in  which  the 
preachers  joined  heartily.  Dr.  S.  could  stand  it  no  longer ; 
hell  was  disappointed,  heaven  had  triumphed,  and  the  holy 
angels  were  rejoicing.  Oh,  my  soul !  what  a  glorious  time 
we  had !  He  rose,  and  told  us  he  could  hardly  speak  for  his 
strong  emotions ;  that  he  had  made  up  his  mind  never  to 
speak  in  love-feast,  for  he  thought  it  wrong  to  do  so,  and 
that  he  had  told  a  friend  He  never  would  do  so ;  and  he  had 
never  tried,  in  all  his  life,  as  he  had  done  that  morning,  to 
keep  his  seat,  but  could  not  do  it.  He  told  us,  how  happy 
he  was  that  he  was  bound  for  heaven,  and  his  dear  wife  was 
going  with  him.  He  requested  us  to  pray  i'or  him,  hoping 
we  would  all  meet  in  heaven  to  part  no  more  for  ever. 

I  think  there  is  more  than  one  ransomed  soul  in  glory 
who  remembers  that  blessed  love-feast,  which  was  as  good 
as  I  have  ever  been  in.  Brother  Bass  seemed  as  if  he  was 
looking  over  the  flood  into  the  green  fields  of  Eden,  and  that 
he  was  listening  to  the  harps  of  glory  by  the  banks  of  the 


SPEAKS   A   SECOND   TIME.  45 

river,  which  makes  glad  the  city  of  the  Lord.  The  glorious 
tide  of  deep  feeling  swept  on  through  the  joyous  throng 
present  in  the  church,  while  some  of  those  who  were  outside, 
waiting  for  the  preaching  of  the  word,  were  impressed  by 
the  great  Spirit.  Among  them,  a  brother  told  me,  he  saw 
my  father  looking  through  a  window,  with  the  tears  stream- 
ing from  his  e^'es.  On  went  the  love-feast,  with  the  tide  of 
devotion  bearing  everything  before  it.  Several  others  spoke 
near  the  close  of  the  meeting.  Dr.  S.  again  rose,  with  a 
smile  of  joy  on  his  face.  I  have  no  doubt  many  holy  spirits 
were  hovering  near.  He  said,  if  we  would  excuse  him,  he 
would  speak  again.  Brother  Bass  said  we  would  be  glad  to 
hear  from  him.  Among  other  things,  he  said,  he  could  not 
tell  us  how  happy  he  felt,  that  although  he  did  not  expect 
to  speak  at  all,  he  now  wanted  to  speak  the  seconcl  time.  If 
I  had  never  clapped  my  hands  and  shouted  "farewell 
world"  before,  I  think  I  would  have  learned,  how,  at  that 
love-feast. 

'^  Jesus,  all  the  day  long 

Was  my  joy  and  my  song : 
0  that  all  his  salvation  might  see  ! 

He  hath  loved  me,  I  cried, 

He  hath  sufifered  and  died, 
To  redeem  a  poor  rebel  like  me. 

"  0  the  rapturous  height 

Of  that  holy  delight 
Which  I  felt  in  the  life-giving  blood ! 

Of  my  Saviour  possessed, 

I  was  perfectly  blessed, 
As  if  filled  with  the  fulness  of  God. ' ' 


LEAF  THE  SEYEXTII. 

DR.    S ,    AFTER    ADVISING    AND    ENTREATING    HIS    FRIEND    TO 

REFRAIN     FROM     SHOUTING    AT    AN    EXPECTED    MEETING,    IS 
THE    FIRST    HEARD    FROM. 

Did  you  ever,  brother  preacher  of  the  gospel,  have  a  friend, 
that  3'ou  thought  much  of,  who  did  not  think  it  right  for 
persons  to  give  way  to  their  feelings,  and  thought  that  some- 
times harm  wae  done  by  it,  and  made  great  efforts  to  control 
himself,  but  who  could  not  always  succeed,  as  now  and  then 
he  would  be  heard  from  like  the  sound  of  many  waters,  but 
afterwards  be  much  mortified  and  ashamed  of  it,  and  go  to 
work  to  recover  his  self-command  ?  Such  a  friend  was  Dr. 
S.  to  me.  I  used  to  think  in  those  days,  that  I  preferred 
to  hear  a  shout  from  Dr.  S.  more  than  any  man  I  knew. 
He  used  to  make  a  brave  and  gallant  effort  to  restrain  him- 
self, and  often  succeeded ;  but  once  in  a  while  the  tide  of 
emotion  would  be  too  strong  for  him,  and  he  would  then  bo 
heard  from  like  the  mighty  whirlwind,  sweeping  everything 
before  it ;  and  after  the  excitement  would  pass  off*,  he  would 
be  in  the  very  depth  of  the  valley,  low  down,  very  low  down. 
No  text  would  suit  him  so  well  as,  "  Why  art  thou  cast 
down,  oh,  my  soul ;  and  why  art  thou  disquieted  within 
me?"  He  would  now  have  very  little  to  say;  his  head 
bowed  down  like  a  bulrush  ;  thinking  everybody  was  looking 
at  him — some  in  sympathy  for,  and  others  finding  fault  with, 
him;  it  would  be  some  time  before  he  would  recover  the 
even  tenor  of  his  way.  It  would  now  take  a  tremendous 
power  to  arouse  him  to  the  strong  fever  heat  again. 

For  several  weeks  after  our  love-feast.  Dr.  S.  seemed  to  be 
uneasy  while  with  me,  appearing  to  be  much  troubled  about  ^ 
something.  I  suspected  what  it  was,  but  said  nothing, 
thinking,  though,  that  I  knew  a  thing  or  two.  He  did  not 
appear  as  much  at  home  in  my  company  as  formerly.  Thus 
several  months  passed  off.  I  suspected  he  was  gathering 
fresh  strength  for  another  effort  for  self-control,  and  that  he 
would  not  again  approach  the  debatable   subject  until  he 


DOCTOR   S PROMISES   AMENDMENT.  47 

thought  he  was  master  of  his  emotion.  I  understood  it  all, 
though  I  said  nothing. 

The  Doctor  was  called  on  by  some  of  his  friends  to  pray 
in  public.  He  never  refused,  but  did  not  like  it,  and  told  us 
as  much.  He  prayed  fervently,  as  if  the  words  came  from 
his  heart,  and  they  never  failed  to  reach  the  hearts  of  others. 
The  time  came  when  he  thought  he  could  approach  the  sub- 
ject in  a  proper  manner.  Once,  when  we  were  alone,  he  said 
to  me,  he  suspected  I  was  much  surprised  at  his  speaking 
twice  in  our  love-feast,  after  making  up  his  mind  to  say 
nothing.  I  told  him  I  was  ;  but  thought  it  added  much 
to  the  interest  of  the  meeting.  He  replied,  that  he  was 
ashamed  of  himself  afterwards ;  but  he  knew  it  would  never 
happen  again,  for  he  could  control  himself  much  better  the 
next  time,  as  he  was  prepared,  and  had  made  up  his  mind 
more  fully  on  that  subject.  I  made  no  reply.  He  went  on 
to  say  that  he  supposed,  that  some  thought  he  had  made 
quite  a  display  of  himself  on  that  occasion,  and  he  was  deter- 
mined it  should  not  happen  again,  for  he  had  prayed  for 
strength,  and  felt  that  he  could  control  himself.  He  wanted 
to  know  if  I  had  heard  the  preachers  or  any  one  object  to 
his  speaking  the  second  time  that  day.  I  told  him,  all  who 
spoke  to  me  of  it  seem.ed  much  pleased,  and  thought  with 
me,  that  it  added  much  to  the  pleasure  of  the  meeting.  He 
was  still  quite  sore  on  the  subject,  and  appeared  to  be 
making  a  mighty  effort  to  be  able  to  command  his  feelings. 
I  told  him  he  was  too  sensitive ;  for  I  did  not  think  it  was 
wrong  in  any  one  to  thank  the  Lord  aloud  if  he  felt  like  it, 
but  rather  thought  it  wrong  for  any  one  to  attempt  to  re- 
strain his  feelings  on  such  occasions ;  as  we  were  taught 
in  the  Bible  that  in  olden  times  Grod's  people  praised  him 
aloud;  and  that  it  was  wrong  to  wish  or  attempt  to  please 
the  enemies  of  the  church,  as  there  were  some  who  would 
make  sport  of  religion  and  all  things  connected  therewith. 

Time  rolled  on,  and  the  Doctor  recovered,  as  he  thought, 
still  better  command  of  himself  I  was  present  at  several 
meetings  where  he  sailed  along  very  quietly,  there  being  no 
noise,  no  ripple  in  the  water.  About  this  time,  there  was  a 
minister  on  our  circuit  whom  we  all  loved  very  much — even 


48  STRAY   LEAVES. 

ninncrs  revered  him.  lie  accomplished  much  good,  both  in 
and  out  of  the  church.  He  was  a  whole-souled  Christian  ; 
and  both  the  Doctor  and  myself  respected  and  loved  him. 
We  expected  to  attend  a  quarterly  meeting  some  distance 
off,  and  to  stay  with  a  friend  who  lived  near. 

Once,  when  Dr.  S.  and  myself  were  alone,  he  told  me  there 
was  Bomething  about  which  he  wanted  to  speak  very  plainly, 
that  he  had  been  long  wanting  to  do  so,  and  he  hoped  I 
would  not  feel  hurt  w^th  him.  He  said,  he  had  often  thought 
that  I  would  do  more  good  to  the  church,  and  enjoy  myself 
better,  if  I  had  my  feelings  under  better  control ;  that  at 
times  he  thought  my  giving  way  to  my  feelings  did  harm, 
as  he  had  heard  some  members  of  the  church  object  to  it. 
He  said,  that  his  motives  in  speaking  to  me  were  j^ure,  and 
begged  me,  as  a  friend  and  brother,  to  make  a  great  effort  to 
control  my  feelings  while  at  the  approaching  meeting.  He 
told  me  further,  that  he  was  afraid  the  sight  of  the  minister 
of  whom  I  thought  so  much  would  excite  me.  I  told  him, 
at  one  time  I  was  of  the  same  opinion,  but  I  was  changed ; 
and,  w^hen  I  felt  like  shouting,  I  did  so,  whether  people  liked 
it  or  not.  I  warned  him  not  to  be  too  confident  of  his  posi- 
tion, as  I  had  not  forgotten  our  love-feast  at  the  chapel.  I 
thought  he  winced  a  little,  and  said,  if  I  would  forgive  him, 
it  should  never  happen  again,  as  he  was  much  stronger. 

We  went  to  the  quarterly  meeting.  Dr.  S.  was  in  fine 
spirits,  and  said  he  expected  to  enjoy  himself  in  a  quiet  man- 
ner— no  one  knowing  it  but  the  Lord  and  himself.  On 
Saturday  we  had  a  good  sermon,  but  apparently  but  little 
feeling  in  the  "(iengregation.  In  company  with  several  of 
the  preachers,"  we  went  to  the  house  of  our  brother,  to 
w^hom  allusion  has  been  made,  who  was  a  good  and  true 
man  in  every  respect.  We  were  kindly  received  by  him 
and  his  gentle  wife.  Dr.  S.  embraced  the  first  opportunity 
to  tell  me  how  much  he  had  enjoyed  the  meeting,  saying,"" 
he  supposed  I  had  noticed  how  well  he  controlled  himself, 
and  added,  he  wished  I  could  do  the  same.  Night  hastened 
on.  Several  preachers  were  present,  and  we  retired  to  a 
room  for  private  prayer.  We  closed  the  door,  and  bowed 
our  knees  in  humble  prayer.     For  some  time,  we  remained 


BREAKS   HIS   RESOLUTION.  49 

silent,  with  only  a  few  brief  prayers  from  some  of  the 
preachers.  But  what  noise  was  that,  like  the  roaring  of 
the  mighty  whirlwind  ?  Dr.  S.  could  hold  in  no  more ;  the 
avalanche  had  fallen,  and  borne  everything  before  it !  Such 
a  shout  had  been  seldom  heard  in  the  chamber  of  private 
prayer.  I  have  heard  nothing  to  surpass  it  for  more  than 
thirty-five  years.  Dr.  S.  rose  from  his  knees,  and  shook 
hands,  first  with  one  and  then  another.  He  was  completely 
cut  loose  from  all  his  moorings.  All  his  boasted  self-control 
had  been  swept  away  like  straws  before  the  mighty  winds 
of  heaven.  His  loud  shouts  rang  through  the  evening  air. 
A  tide  of  happy  feeling  passed  through  the  room — the 
preachers  all  rejoiced  with  the  Doctor. 

We  had  been  there  some  time,  when  I  went  to  the  back 
door,  and  opened  it  to  let  in  some  fresh  air.  Many  negroes 
had  gathered  outside,  to  know  what  was  going  on  within. 
Dr.  S.  came  out,  completely  overpowered  by  his  emotions, 
which,  like  noble  horses,  long  held  in  check  by  bit  and 
bridle,  now  having  broken  loo^e,  rushed  wi'ch  headlong  speed 
wherever  they  pleased.  He  went  among  the  servants,  and 
shook  hands  with  them,  and  praised  the  Lord. 

Finally,  though  a  reaction  took  place  with  Dr.  S.,  family 
prayer  was  over,  and  we  retired  to  the  same  room,  but  he 
scarcely  closed  his  eyes,  being  very  low  down  in  the  valley 
of  despondency,  and  having  hung  his  harp  on  the  willows. 
All  his  self-control  was  gone ;  how  could  he^  ever  raise  his 
head  again  ?  He  who  had  so  earnestly,  so  affectionately,  en- 
treated me  to  restrain  my  emotions — to  follow  the  example 
he  would  set  me — he  who  would  sail  along  so  gently,  so 
quietly,  with  no  ripple  on  the  waters — was  the  first  heard 
from — he  praised  God  aloud.  He  passed  a  sleepless  night. 
Whenever  I  awoke,  I  found  him  tossing  from  side  to  side, 
sighing  mournfully.  He  was  afterwards  taken  with  a  vio- 
lent headache,  and  remained  on  the  stool  of  repentance  for  a 
long  time,  regretting  much  what  had  happened,  and  resolved 
to  go  to  work  to  recover  his  self-control ;  but  he  said  nothing 
to  me  for  many  years  about  restraining  my  feelings,  and  fol- 
lowing the  example  he  would  set  me. 


LEAF  THE  EIGHTn. 

OLD    SHILOII  ;    OR,    THE    SANCTIFIED    PREACHER. 

Brother  preacher,  have  you  forgotten  the  little  wayside 
church  in  which  you  preached  in  olden  time  ?  It  stood  not 
far  from  the  high-road,  just  after  you  crossed  the  branch  or 
creek ;  or,  perhaps,  in  the  edge  of  an  old  field,  with  a  few 
short  leafed  pines  near  it ;  or,  perhaps  near  a  little  pond,  full 
of  water  in  winter,  and  very  dry  in  summer ;  or  it  may  have 
stood  on  the  top  of  a  little  hill,  with  large  tall  trees  near  it. 
Such  was  the  situation  of  old  Shiloh,  when  I  first  began  to 
preach.  And,  brother  preacher,  do  you  not  love  to  return, 
in  imagination,  to  those  times  w^hen  to  go  to  a  two  days' 
meeting  at  one  of  those  little  wayside  houses  was  the  height 
of  your  ambition  ?  And  if  the  weather  was  good,  and  the 
friends  had  laid  b^-  tbeir  cro2:)s,  and  their  corn  and  cotton 
were  not  in  the  way,  and  there  was  no  other  meeting  near 
to  draw  off  a  part  of  the  expected  congregation,  and  if  you 
had  something  over  a  hundred  rank  and  file  of  all  classes 
and  colors,  you  would  think  you  had  a  tremendous  crowd, 
and  would  have  to  preach  out  of  doors  on  Sunday. 

Such  was  the  Shiloh  of  my  hopes  and  fears  in  the  days  of 
"  auld  lang  syne."  But  the  much-loved  church  is  gone,  and 
I  see  it  no  more. 

And  then,  you  sometimes  got  to  the  church,  after  your  long 
ride,  ahead  of  your  congregation,  and  hitched  your  horse  to  a 
swinging  limb,  and  sat  dow^n  on  one  of  the  rough  benches  in 
the  little  log-house,  thinking  about  your  sermon ;  and  after  a 
while  the  people  would  begin  to  come  up ;  perhaps  first  a 
woman,  with  a  child  in  her  arms,  and  two  or  three  little  ones 
walking  close  behind ;  and  then  an  old  horse  with  both 
shoulders  rubbed  raw,  in  a  small  cart  full  of  folks ;  and  then 
two  young  women,  with  a  young  man  walking  between 
them,  all  with  flowers  in  their  hands ;  and  then,  again,  a 
man  on  an  old  field  pony,  with  a  woman  behind  him,  and  a 
crop-eared,  stump-tailed  dog  trotting  close  behind  them ;  and 
presently  an  old  gig,   and  a  heavy,  old-fashioned  carriage, 


DIVERS   INTERRUPTIONS.  51 

• 

belonging  respectively  to  the  Squire  and  the  Major  on  the 
other  side  of  the  swamp ;  and  now,  you  are  ready  to  say  to 
yourself,  "  I  do  believe  there  is  one  dog  to  every  four  per- 
sons present."  And  after  you  got  into  the  pulpit,  and  had 
said  your  prayers,  the  class-leader  would  come  and  beg  you, 
in  a  whisper,  to  preach  from  such  a  text,  as  the  Squire  and 
the  Major  are  out.  Such  was  old  Shiloh  to  me  in  the  olden 
times. 

And  after  preaching,  when  you  said  to  the  brother  who 
was  with  you,  "  I  feel  so  tired ;  I  think  w^e  had  best  not  have 
preaching  to-night,"  and  Brother  Y.  would  say,  "I  am  afraid 
there  will  be  a  great  disappointment ;  for  old  Sister  IS",  told 
me,  that  her  girls  would  be  quite  put  out  if  there  was  no 
preaching  to-night ;  for  the^"  Iv^^d  to  stay  at  home  to-day,  to 
fix  up,  and  have  some  dun^'plings  and  tarts  for  the  big  dinner 
to-morrow."  So  you  hadao  publish  night  meeting;  and  then 
Brother  Y.  fired  ofi'  his  Mg  gun  ;  and  the  Squire's  daughter — 
Miss  Sallie,  and  the  Major's  sister — Miss  Mary  Louisa,  first 
came  up  and  knelt  at  the  little  table — for  there  %^as  no  altar. 
And  now,  Mrs.  P.  came  up,  with  a  child  in  her  rms,  and  a 
little  boy  holding  to  her  skirts ;  and  then  Charlie  E.,  and 
Billy  H.,  and  several  other  young  men  knelt  at  their  seats ; 
and  the  Major  clapped  his  hands,  and  the  old  Squire  said 
'*  glory !  "  and  we  had  a  great  meeting  that  night. 

Such  was  Shiloh  of  the  olden  time. 

And  then,  such  a  fine  turn-out  we  had  on  Sunday.  Some 
of  the  quality,  from  near  the  Court  House,  came  in,  when 
the  sermon  was  half  over.  And  when  the  second  sermon 
was  almost  ended,  and  Sister  I*^.  had  shouted  out  aloud,  and 
the  Squire  had  twice  said  "glory !"  and  we  were  counting  on 
a  tremendous  time,  and  we  expected  to  have  to  protract  the 
meeting — Mrs.  G.'s  little  boy  began  to  cry  very  loud,  because 
he  could  not  get  another  biscuit,  and  two  horses  which  had 
been  tied  to  the  same  tree  began  to  fight,  and  the  Squire's 
old  dog  Hector  jumped  on  Mr.  E.'s  crop-eared,  stump-tailed 
dog  Pompey,  and  they  had  a  big  fight,  and  some  of  the  boys 
ran  out  to  stop  the  fuss — and  the  meeting  was  spoiled.  And 
when  you  told  Brother  Y.  "good  bye,"  he  said  "O,  Brother 
B,,  what  a  pity  those  dogs  began  to  fight ;  if  it  had  not  been 


52  STRAY   LEAVES. 

for  that,  there  is  no  tellinfr  what  a  ^rloriouK  time  wo  "svould 
have  had !" 

Such  a  place  vTas  old  Shiloh  to  me  in  the  davn  gone  by. 

But,  my  good  brother  preacher,  after  a  while  you  began 
to  spread  out  from  home  more  than  you  used  to  do,  and 
sometimes  you  got  to  a  camp  meeting  on  the  other  side  of 
the  river;  and  the  preacher  on  another  circuit  sometimes 
told  you  he  wanted  you  to  helj)  him  at  a  big  meeting  at  the 
Court  House ;  and  the  presiding  elder  told  you,  that  night 
he 'stayed  with  you,  that  you  must  "branch  out  more,"  for 
3^ou  would  do  more  good  by  it.  So  you  cannot  go  to  old 
Shiloh  now  as  often  as  formerl}^.  And  the  last  time  you 
were  there,  you  had  been  away  for  a  long  while ;  but  some- 
body told  you,  that  some  onerSijid,  that  the  Major  said,  that 
the  Squire  said,  that  day  at  tlie  lo^;-rolling  at  his  house,  that 
''he  was  afraid  the  parson  would '^oon  be  too  large  for  h in 
pants;"  so  you  saVl  to  yourself,  "th.s  will  never  do;  I  must 
go  there  once  more,  even  if  the  old  house  looks  more  like 
falling  than  when  I  was  there  last ;  and  I  will  get  some  of 
the  preachers  to  help  me,  and  we  will  have"  a  big  meeting; 
and  I  will  stay  one  night  at  the  Major's,  and  one  night  at 
the  Squire's,  and  take  dinner  at  Sister  [N'.'s  ;  and  will  let 
the  friends  see,  that  the  parson  is  not  yet  too  large  for  his 
pants ! " 

So  the  long  and  short  of  it,  my  friends,  is,  I  am  on  my 
last  visit  to  old  Shiloh — for  not  long  after  it  was  replaced  by 
a  new  house. 

The  report  of  the  expected  meeting  had  gone  far  and  near, 
on  both  sides  of  the  big  swamp ;  for  it  had  been  given  out 
months  beforehand,  that  Brothers  D.,  Y.,  B.,  and  others  were 
expected,  and  the  meeting  was  expected  to  last  over  two 
Sundays ;  and  the  candidates  for  the  next  sheriff  and  tax- 
collector  were  expected  to  be  there,  so  the  meeting  would 
not  be  broken  up,  even  if  old  Hector  did  jump  on  and  fight 
Mr.  E.'s  crop-eared,  stump-tailed  dog,  Pompey. 

And  now,  the  preparations  were  all  over,  and  the  young 
ladies  had  been  to  the  Court  House,  and  got  lots  of  fine 
things.  But  times  have  changed  a  little  since  our  first  visit. 
Some  fine  crops  have  been  made  down  there  since  that  time ; 


53 

and  the  big  swamp  has  been  opened  for  rafting ;  and  some  of 
the  quality  people  have  moved  into  the  neighbourhood.  But 
the  old  church  "has  not  changed — there  it  stands,  looking 
older,  and  more  ready  to  fall,  than  when  we  were  there  last. 
The  floor  has  sunk  down  near  the  pulpit.  But  the  old  house 
has  been  scrubbed  over,  and  the  yard  has  been  swept  and 
cleaned.  Come,  friends,  be  a  little  careful  as  you  walk  in. 
The  old  house  looks  as  if  it  cannot  stand  much  longer.  The 
company  appeared  to  be  better  fixed  up,  than  when  I  first 
went  there ;  and  there  is  not  as  much  going  in  and  out 
during  preaching  as  usual ;  neither  were  there  as  inany  dogs 
there  as  in  days  gone  by.  I  did  not  see  old  Hector  or  Pom- 
pey ;  I  suspect  they  had  both  crossed  the  flood. 

-As  well  as  I  can  now  remember,  we  had  a  good  meeting 
on  Saturday;  but  Sunday  was  to  be  the  great  day  of  the 
meeting.  Every  body  will  be  out — big  fish,  little  fish,  and 
all.  Arrangements  were  made  accordingly — two  sermons 
were  expected — prayer-meeting  before  preaching — friends 
requested  to  come  early.  The  blessed  Sabbath — the  holy 
day,  was  now  come.  Alas,  for  the  expectation  of  poor  mor- 
tals !  it  looked  much  like  rain.  AYe  nevertheless  start  far 
the  church,  and  have  a  fine  turn-out. 

Prayer-meeting  was  over,  and  we  were  in  a  crowded  house, 
which  looked  as  if  it  could  not  stand  much  longer.  Old 
Shiloh  had  not  had  such  a  fine  turn-out  of  the  quality  folks 
for  many  a  day.  A  good  local  minister,  from  another  circuit, 
was  to  preach  the  first  sermon.  He  had  been  on  the  walls  of 
Zion  for  some  time,  and  believed  in  the  doctrines  of  our 
church  fully.  He  was  a  man  with  a  sharp,  strong,  piercing 
voice.  We  now  have  old-time  singing — clear,  loud,  and  ring- 
ing. Prayer  was  over.  The  parson  gave  out  his  text,^and 
told  us  how  he  would  treat  it,  with  the  Lord's  blessing.  "^  He 
divided  it  into  three  parts — first,  second,  and  thirdly.  The 
congregation  looked  as  if  they  expected  him  to  spread  him- 
self on  thirdly.  A  gentle  rain  was  falling.  I  was  seated  in 
the  pulpit — having  to  hold  forth  next.  As  the  preacher  went 
on,  he  warmed  up  from  time  to  time ;  but  was  reserving  his 
main  strength  for  thirdly.  On  went  the  parson  with  his  ser- 
mon;   the   rain  falls — a   little   faster,   a  little   louder.     The 


54  STRAY   LEAVES. 

preacher,  in  his  second  division,  raises  his  voice  louder,  and 
it  is  "more  piercini^ — the  people  appeared  serious  and  atten- 
tive. On  account  of  the  depression  in  the  floor,  the  pulpit 
leaned  over  a  little.  At  times,  the  preacher  had  to  hold  on 
to  the  book-board  to  keep  himself  erect,  and  I  had  to  lean 
back  the  other  way  to  keep  myself  uj)ri<rht.  The  parson 
was  now  entering  with  his  full  strength  on  the  last  division ; 
and  the  people  looked  as  if  they  expected  him  to  spread 
himself  on  thirdly.  Ilis  glance  seemed  to  say,  "you  need  not 
be  afraid;  there  will  be  no  mistake,  if  the  Lord  will  help 
me."  The  rain  was  falling  now  faster  and  louder  ;  the  old 
house  seemed  to  lean  more  towards  the  middle  than  when 
we  first  came  in.  The  preacher  was  spreading  himself  on 
thirdly.  The  people  looked  as  if  they  thought  so  too.  His 
voice  was  louder,  and  more  piercing  than  ever.  It  rang 
through  the  church  and  the  woods  around.  He  was  swing- 
ing clear  now  under  very  high  pressure ;  his  broad  banner 
was  unfurled  and  waving. 

But  now,  that  full  justice  might  be  done  to  thirdly,  the 
preacher  must  press  home  on  the  waiting  congregation,  the 
doctrine  of  perfect  love.  He  pauses,  only  for  a  moment,  to 
gather  all  his  powers  for  the  final  effort.  While  he  pauses, 
if  you  listen,  you  can  still  hear  the  rain  falling  from  the  old 
house.  The  preacher  was  now  making  his  final  eifort;  and 
full  justice  will  be  done  to  thirdly.  He  proves  his  position — 
he  tells  us  we  must  reach  that  point  of  perfect  love  by  ex- 
perience ;  he  tells  us  of  many  of  the  old-time  saints  who 
lived  in  the  enjoyment  of  this  blessing ;  now  he  comes  down 
to  modern  times,  and  makes  honorable  mention  of  many  of 
the  primitive  Methodists  who  possessed  it,  and  went  home 
to  glory.  The  old  house  seemed  to  lean  a  little  more.  Be- 
fore taking  his  seat,  the  preacher  begs  his  friends  to  excuse 
his  speaking  of  himself;  he  does  not  wish  to  press  so 
strongly  this  great  truth  upon  them,  without  saying  he 
was  in  the  enjoyment  of  this  great  blessing  himself.  He 
was  glad  to  think,  he  possessed  himself  what  he  preached 
to  others,  and  had  been  happy  in  its  enjoyment  for  some 
time,  and  was  living  in  full  stretch  for  the  better  world  ;  the 
roots  of  bitterness  were  all  removed,  and  he  was  free  to  say 


66 

he  was  living  each  revolving  day  as  if  it  was  his  last ;  he 
had  no  will  of  his  own — had  not  had  for  some  time — it  was 
all  svrallowed  up  in  his  heavenly  Father's.  He  was  only 
waiting  his  Master's  time  ;  he  was  ready  at  any  moment, 
by  night  or  by  day — in  July's  heat,  in  December's  cold,  if 
called  he  was  ready — at  home  or  abroad — on  horseback  or 
on  foot — on  the  land  or  at  sea — if  called  then  and  there,  he 
would  as  lief  go  from  that  old  pulpit,  and  through  that  old 
roof,  to  glory,  as  from  anywhere  else. 

The  preacher  sat  down,  having  done  full  justice  to  thirdly, 
calm  as  a  summer's  evening  when  no  wind  bloweth.  I  got 
up,  having  hardly  time  to  plant  myself  firmly  before  the  book- 
board,  when  an  awful  crash  was  heard — apparently,  the  old 
house  will  be  down  in  thirty  seconds  at  most.  A  desperate 
rush  was  made  for  the  open  door,  and  the  preacher  was  the 
second  man  that  jumped  out.  Some  said  he  was  first,  but 
the  general  impression  was,  that  the  parson  came  out  second 
best — ^proving  to  all,  both  saint  and  sinner,  that  he  still  had 
a  very  strong  will  of  his  oitm.  And  while  the  parson  rushed 
out,  perhaps  a  holy  angel  almost  sighed,  and  a  fallen  spirit 
shouted.  But  the  old  house  did  not  completely  fall  down, 
and  the  preacher,  who  had  no  will  of  his  own,  and  the  con- 
gregation, who  were  more  scared  than  hurt,  came  back,  and 
I  preached  my  last  sermon  in  Shiloh.  For  the  much  loved 
old  church  is  gone  now,  my  friends,  and  I  see  it  no  more. 


LEAF  THE  NINTH. 

a  memento  op  my  derarted  hiiend,  the  rev.  james  c. 
postell;  or  a  night  at  cattle-creek  camp  ground 
IN  THE  olden  times. 

Departed  brother,  safe  home  in  glory,  I  often  think  and 
speak  of  you,  having  a  strong  desire  to  see  you  once  more, 
and  hear  you  preach  and  sing  again, 

'*  Trouble's  over,  trouble's  over; 
A  few  more  rounds  of  circuits  here, 
Then  all  our  troubles  will  be  over." 

Who  ever  heard  that  gifted  brother  once,  without  wishing 
to  hear  him  a  second  time?  I  had  heard  so  much  of  him, 
that  my  curiosity  was  much  excited,  and  I  was  anxious  to 
see  and  hear  him.  I  saw  him,  I  think,  for  the  first  time,  at 
old  Providence,  near  Midway,  in  Barnwell  District,  and  was 
much  pleased  with,  and  interested  in,  him,  being  at  once  con- 
vinced that  as  a  preacher  for  protracted  and  camp  meetings, 
he  had  few  equals.  He  invited  me  to  come  to  Cattle  creek 
camp  meeting,  soon  to  take  place,  and  I  promised  to  do  so. 

The  day  came,  and  I  went.  The  meeting  had  been  going 
on  for  some  time,  and  much  interest  was  manifested.  Eeader, 
were  you  ever  at  Cattle-creek  years  ago,  when  travdling 
was  not  so  easy  as  now — when  you  had  to  ride  some  dis- 
tance, and  cross  more  than  one  deep  creek ;  and  were  you 
not  glad  when  you  reached  the  place  ?  After  you  had  been 
there  only  a  little  while,  and  had  received  more  invitations 
than  you  could  meet,  did  you  not  feel  like  saying,  "although 
the  friends  here  have  little  tents,  they  have  very  large 
hearts."  Come,  tell  the  truth  now ;  you  were  not  long  on 
the  ground,  were  you,  before  the  Bartons,  the  Fredericks, 
the  Bowmans,  the  Snells,  the  Izlars,  the  Berrys,  and  others, 
were,  sometimes  more  than  one  of  them  at  once,  requesting 
you  to  go  with  them  ?  There  is  such  a  thing  as  a  man  get- 
ting too  many  invitations  at  camp  meetings ;  at  least,  it  has 
been  so  with  me,  as  I  am  rather  forgetful.    It  happened  that 


57 

the  Strange  Parson  once,  at  Broxton's  bridge  camp  meeting, 
received  so  many  invitations  (as  was  afterwards  proved), 
that  he  promised  four  different  persons  to  dine  with  them, 
and  when  the  time  arrived,  a  fifth  man  came,  and  the  parson 
went  with  him,  having  forgotten  the  others.  So  I  felt, 
while  at  Cattle  creek,  more  than  once  like  saying,  ''al- 
though the  tents  are  small,  these  people  have  very  large 
hearts." 

Soon  after  I  reached  the  ground,  I  was  met  by  Brother 
Posteil.  who  crave  me  a  warm  shake  of  the  hand — which  I 
can  even  now  remember,  though  near  thirty  years  ago — 
saying,  "  AYell,  Brother  B.,  I  am  glad  to  see  you;  I  think  we 
are  going  to  have  a  fine  meeting  to-night,  for  I  have  been 
praying  for  it,  and  I  have  faith  to  believe  it."  My  hopes 
concerning  the  meeting,  I  confess,  were  not  strong.  The 
night  was  gloomy,  and  we  had  to  go  through  the  rain  to  the 
stand,  and  I  suppose  the  unpleasant  weather  had  affected 
my  spirits.  The  old  church  was  the  only  place  in  which  the 
crowd  could  be  accommodated,  and  even  there  I  was  afraid 
they  would  not  be  comfortable,  and  that  we  would  not  have 
a  fine  meeting ;  but  he  said,  "  Oh,  yes,  you  will  see  it ;  for  I 
have  been  praying  for  it,  and  expect  it ;  as,  you  know,  '  ac- 
cording to  thy  faith  so  be  it.'  " 

"Brother  B.,"  said  he,  '-'I  have  something  to  tell  you;  but 
you  must  not  say  anything  about  it  for  a  while.  If  I  have 
a  chance,  and  I  think  I  will,  as  I  expect  to  exhort  to-night, 
I  wish  to  make  use  of  something  which  happened  on  my 
way  here."  He  then  told  me  what  it  was,  and  said  he 
thought  he  could  make  good  use  of  it.  Nothing  more  was 
said,  and  we  parted. 

The  hour  for  preaching  had  come,  and  the  horn  had  been 
blown.'  There  was  to  be  service  in  several  tents,  but  I  went 
with  the  crowd  to  the  old  church.  There  was  a  perfect  jam, 
every  place  being  filled  with  persons  either  standing  or  sit- 
ting. Such  glorious  old-time  singing  we  had — even  now  in 
imagination  I  hear  it.  Every  now  and  then  I  found  myself 
thinking  of  what  Brother  P.  said  about  our  having  a  good 
meeting.  In  all  my  life,  I  never  looked  over  a  congrega- 
tion as  often  as  I  did  that  night,  trying  to  discover  the 
4 


58  STRAY    LEAVES. 

wonderful  things  to  bo  done ;  but  I  saw  nothing  during 
the  sermon.  Brother  Forster  preached  well.  When  he  con- 
cluded, I  looked  over  the  crowd,  but  saw  no  signs  of  what  I 
had  been  led  to  expect.  During  the  sermon,  I  had  more 
than  once  discovered  Brother  P.  regarding  me  with  a  look, 
which  seemed  to  say,  "  never  mind,  we  are  going  to  have  a 
fine  meeting ;  for  I  have  been  praying  for  it,  and  have  faith 
to  believe  it." 

Brother  P.  now  got  up.  He  was  a  popular  preacher,  and 
drew  crowds  after  him ;  and  I  suspect  that  the  house  was  so 
full  because  it  had  got  out  that  he  was  to  exhort  that  night. 
The  large  and  unpleasantly-situated  congregation  became 
very  still  when  he  rose.  He  observed,  that  he  hoped  to 
have  the  prayers  and  attention  of  all  present,  and  exhorted 
the  brethren  to  exercise  faith,  and  to  expect  a  large  out- 
pouring of  the  Spirit — that  he  looked  for  and  expected  it. 
He  said,  he  was  afraid  there  were  several  present  who  did 
not  expect  much,  but  that  he  hoped  to  see  many  mourners 
and  several  conversions.  I  turned,  and  looked  again,  but 
saw  no  manifest  signs  of  the  great  out-pouring  which  was 
expected.  He  hoped  the  mourners  would  not  wait  for  sing- 
ing to  commence,  as  he  wanted  to  see  them  coming  up 
promptly.  During  his  exhortation  (which  ought  never  to 
be  forgotten)  he  several  times  requested  us  to  pray,  and  not 
to  fear,  and  said  that  we  would  have  a  glorious  meeting.  I 
looked  round  frequently,  but  saw  no  marked  signs.  He 
more  than  once  gazed  at  me  with  his  piercing  black  eyes, 
which  seemed  to  say,  "  do  not  fear,  Brother  B.,  we  will  have 
a  great  revival." 

He  compared  himself  to  an  archer,  with  his  quiver  full  of 
arrows,  and  said  he  was  going  to  shoot  them  at  the  sinner, 
the  backslider,  and  all  cold-hearted  Christians,  and  he  hoped 
every  one  would  feel  a  smart — that  he  had  more  than  a 
score  of  them,  and  as  he  shot  them  off,  he  hoped  the  church 
would  pray  as  the}^  heard  them  whizzing  through  the  crowd. 
In  his  very  impressive  manner  he  proceeded  fixing  the  ar- 
rows. His  soul-stirring  words  followed  one  another  like  a 
mighty  torrent  rushing  down  the  mountain  side.  I  soon 
forgot  to  turn  again,  for  the  last  time  I  looked  I  saw  the 


THE   ARROW    HITS   THE    MARK.  59 

marked  signs,  not  to  be  mistaken.  If  the  rain  continued  to 
fall,  that  torrent  would  sweep  everything  before  it — trees, 
houses,  rocks,  and  all.  He  would  every  now  and  then,  after 
some  strong  expression,  tell  us  another  arrow  was  shot  off, 
and  beg  us  to  pray  as  we  heard  it  flying  from  the  string. 

On,  and  still  on,  the  archer  of  the  cross  went — getting  at 
length  to  his  last  shaft.  He  then  paused,  as  if  to  recover  full 
strength  for  his  last  effort.  Oh,  my  soul !  what  a  pause  was 
that  I  It  seemed  as  if  immortal  souls  were  trembling  in  the 
balance,  while  angels  and  devils  held  their  breath  as  they 
looked  and  listened.  Before  shooting  the  last  arrow,  he  said 
he  would  put  a  new  string  on  his  bow,  and  he  begged  us,  if 
ever  in  our  lives  we  had  prayed  with  faith,  to  do  so  now — 
and  I  doubt  if  a  more  general  or  fervent  prayer  was  ever 
offered  up  in  old  Cattle  creek  church.  He  then  told  us,  that 
an  interesting  young  lady,  whose  parents  loved  the  Lord, 
and  were  on  their  way  to  heaven,  who  came  there  with  him, 
was  very  gay  and  fond  of  fashion,  and  he  was  afraid  she 
would  never  meet  her  parents  in  glory.  He  said,  he  had 
begged  her  to  try  to  get  religion,  and  he  would  pray  for  her 
as  long  as  he  lived. 

The  last  arrow  went  sounding  from  the  string.  As  I 
turned  round  to  look,  I  almost  sprang  to  my  feet ;  for  I  saw 
a  young  lady  fall  from  her  seat  as  if  she  had  been  shot 
through  the  heart ;  and  now,  from  the  outside  of  the  crowd, 
came  a  young  man,  forcing  his  way,  stepping  from  bench  to 
bench,  crying  for  mercy.  And  then  a  crowd  of  mourners 
rushed  up  as  if  for  their  lives;  and  then  Brother  Postell 
came  down  from  the  pulpit,  singing — 

*'  Trouble's  over,  trouble's  over; 
A  few  more  rounds  of  circuits  here, 
Then  all  our  troubles  will  be  over." 

We  had,  indeed,  a  glorious  old-time  meeting.  I  remained 
until  eleven  o'clock,  and  then,  not  being  able  to  reach  the 
door,  got  out  through  a  window.  I  hope  to  remember  that 
night,  in  heaven,  where  all  our  troubles  will  be  over  for  ever. 


LEAF  THE  TENTH. 

MY     FIRST     VISIT     TO    OLD    CANE    CREEK    CAMP-GROUND,     UNION 

DISTRICT WHY     I     WENT     THERE;    OR,    THE     BEGINNING    OF 

MY    ROVING    LIFE. 

After  joiniiip^  the  church,  luid  beini^  chif^s-leadcr  and  cx- 
hortor  for  some  time,  I  began  to  preaeli ;  but  for  years  did 
not  go  much  beyond  my  own  circuit.  Brother  James  C. 
Postell,  being  sent  to  the  Union  circuit,  invited  me  to  come 
and  spend  some  time  with  him,  which  I  was  glad  to  do — 
both  to  })e  with  him,  and  to  re-visit  the  okl  phice  in  that  dis- 
trict where  I  went  to  school  when  only  eight  years  old. 
AVheu  circumstances  allowed,  I  went ;  and  this,  then,  was  the 
beginning  of  my  roving  life,  though  I  confess  that  preaching 
the  gospel  was  only  a  secondary  consideration. 

After  travelling  a  long  distaiice,  tired  and  worn  out,  I  ar- 
rived one  day  about  noon,  at  the  house  of  that  much-res- 
pected and  whole-souled  preacher,  Brother  John  Jennings. 
I  was  told  that  Brothers  Postell  and  Picket,  and  a  fe^v 
othei's,  w^ere  going  to  hold  a  camp-meeting  at  Cane  creek, 
and  Avanted  me  to  attend.  I  told  them  what  brought  me  up 
there ;  but,  that  after  I  had  re-visited  old  scenes,  I  would  be 
glad  to  attend.  I  had  found  out  that  the  most  of  Brother 
Jennings's  sons  were  not  members  of  the  church.  After  din- 
ner, I.  went  up  stairs  to  rest ;  but  the  LoM  was  beginning  to 
lay  the  burden  of  immortal  souls  more  heavily  upon  me  than 
ever  before,  and  I  could  not  rest ;  for  the  desire  to  see  the 
preacher's  sons  converted  took  full  possession  of  my  heart, 
and  for  a  time  almost  everything  else  was  forgotten.  Again 
and  again,  during  the  evening,  I  was  on  my  knees,  engaged 
in  ardent  Y)rayer  for  those  young  men,  begging  the  Lord  to 
convict  and  convert  them.  I  humbly  besought  him  that  they 
might  be  among  the  first  at  the  altar,  and  among  the  first  to 
embrace  religion  at  the  camp-meeting. 

The  next  day  I  went  on  to  Unionville,  and  was  warmly 
welcomed  by  Brother  Postell,  and  became  acquainted  with 
Dr.  "Dogan  and  others,  good  men  and  true.    And  now,  reader. 


i 


REVISIT   MOUNT   PROSPECT.  61 

3'ou  find  me  at  the  place  which  I  so  long  wanted  to  see — the 
old  grounds  of  Mount  Prospect  stood  before  me.  I  roamed 
all  about,  thinking  of  Mr.  Camp])ell  the  old  teacher,  and  Mr. 
Wright  with  whom  I  boarded ;  and  I  went  to  the  spring  at 
the  foot  of  a  steep  hill,  and  drank  from  it.  I  then  knelt,  and 
thanked  the  Lord  for  his  protection  to  that  hour ;  and  then 
my  thoughts  went  back  to  the  death  of  my  dear  mother.  I 
saw  the  whole  scene  before  me — my  gentle,  heavenly -minded 
mother  lying  in  her  coffin ;  and  I  again  listened  to  the  read- 
ing of  the  funeral  service,  and  remembered  how  filled  with 
grief  was  the  little  boy's  heart,  yet  no  tears  fell  from  his 
eyes  ;  and  how  an  old  gentleman  came  up  and  put  his  hand 
oil  my  head,  and  said,  he  suspected  the  little  boy  who  could 
not  weep  felt  as  sorry  as  any  present.  And  then  I  recalled 
the  time  soon  after,  when  my  brother  John  and  myself  were 
sent  from  old  Pine  Forest  to  Mount  Prospect  to  school.  I 
then  went  to  the  old  house,  and  went  in  and  around  it,  and 
then  my  melancholy  feelings  soon  departed;  for  I  then 
thought  of  the  wild  sports  and  frolics  of  the  boys,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  it  were  only  a  few  days  since  we  were  there.  I 
must  leave  old  Mount  Prospect  now,  and  start  for  Cane 
creek. 

I  hastened  on  my  way  to  spend  the  night  at  Brother 
Glenn's.  It  was  near  sunset,  and  I  was  approaching  one  of 
the  happiest  evenings  of  my  life,  for  I  was  soon  going  to  see 
one  of  the  noblemen  of  heaven — the  much-loved  and  highly- 
respected  Dr.  G.  We  met  then  for  the  first  time,  and  have 
over  since  been  dear  friends,  and  I  hope  we  shall  meet  in 
heaven.  I  asked  the  stranger  to  direct  me  to  the  Pev.  Mr. 
Glenn's.  He  told  me,  it  was  too  far  to  be  reached  that  night, 
and  asked  me  to  turn  back  a  short  distance,  and  spend  the 
night  with  him.  I  declined  at  first,  but  he  still  insisted,  and 
I  yielded,  for  it  was  near  night.  We  heard  a  noise  in  the 
distance,  and  rode  on  nearer  to  it ;  it  proved  to  be  water 
I'unniisg  ovpf-  the  J'ocks,  I  uebed  the  n:rn>e  of  the  ris'^er,  and 
wits  rold.  ir  ^w^b  the  Eno/ee,  vvhich  I  had  greacJv'  wauced  ru 
see ;  and  I  enjoyed  the  sight,  for  I  had  now  seen  all  that  i 
wished  of  the  places  of  my  boyhood.  We  passed  over  the  Eno- 
ree,  and  Brother  G.  took  me  to  the  house  of  a  Brother  Clark 


62  STRAY   LEAVES. 

and  his  wife,  where  I  met  an  interentinf^  youiipj  man — a  Mr. 
SimR.  Thus  in  one  evening,  I  had  found  four  friends,  who,  since 
that  time,  have  possessed  a  life-time  hokl  on  my  affections ; 
and  I  have  always  regarded  that  night,  and  the  scenes  there- 
with connected,  as  one  of  the  green  places  in  my  roving  life. 

The  morning  came,  and  I  was  soon  to  leave  for  the  meet- 
ing. Brother  C.  had  a  man  attending  to  business,  a  Mr.  B., 
who  seemed  inclined  to  have  some  sport  w4th  the  preacher 
before  he  left.  He  took  me  over  the  place,  and  every  now 
and  then  told  me  he  thought  it  was  unhealthy  on  the  Walter- 
boro  circuit,  and  was  surprised  to  see  me  looking  so  well,  as 
I  came  from  that  country  of  grave-yards.  lie  continued  in 
that  strain  for  some  time,  but  it  was  not  very  entertaining  to 
me.  After  a  while,  he  insisted  on  weighing  me,  to  ascertain 
how  heavy  I  was.  My  horse  had  been  ready  for  some  time, 
so  I  told  the  family  farewell,  and  turned  to  Mr.  B.,  and  spoke 
to  him  on  the  subject  of  religion. 

"  O  !  "  said  he,  "  I  care  nothing  about  it  now ;  I  have  time 
enough  to  think  of  such  things.  If  I  thought  I  was  going 
to  die  soon,  I  would  like  right  well  to  have  religion ;  but  as 
I  expect  to  live  a  long  time,  I  will  put  it  off." 

I  begged  him  to  attend  our  meeting.*  He  said,  he  had  no 
time.  I  entreated  him  to  come;  telling  him  he  might  be 
benefitted.  He  said,  he  did  not  care  about  it  then ;  but 
would  put  it  off  until  just  before  his  death,  which  would  be 
ample  time.  At  last,  my  faith  in  reference  to  Mr.  B.  became 
stronger,  and  I  told  him,  if  he  would  come  to  the  meeting,  I 
believed  he  would  join  the  church.  But  he  told  me,  he  did 
not  wish  to  attend,  or  to  join  the  church.  My  faith  became 
still  stronger,  and  I  told  him  I  believed  he  was  afraid  to 
come,  and  dared  him  to  do  so — that  I  w^as  going  to  pray  for 
him,  and  I  thought  he  Avould  join  the  church;  and  thus  we 
parted,  and  very  soon  I  arrived  at  old  Cane  creek. 

Let  me  say  here,  that  it  has  been  one  of  the  greatest  plea- 
sures of  my  life  to  attend  camp-meetings.  Among  them  all, 
Binnakers  and  Cane  creek  camp-meetings  are  the  dearest  to 
me.  At  the  former,  I  embraced  religion,  and  joined  the 
church  in  which  I  hope  to  live  and  die ;  and  at  the  latter,  I 
became  more  full}-  convinced  than  ever  that  I  was  called  to 


THE  OLD  QUAKER  CHURCH.  63 

preach,  and  that  so  far  my  labors  had  been  blessed.  I  have 
always  regarded  my  first  meeting  at  Cane  creek  as  the  best 
I  ever  attended  in  my  life.  When  I  arrived  there,  the  tents 
had  been  pitched,  and  the  stand  prepared,  and  everything 
was  ready.  There  was  an  old  church  there  in  which  the 
Quakers  worshipped  many  years  ago,  but  which  was  now 
used  by  others.  I  found  several  preachers  on  the  ground, 
both  travelling  and  local,  but  high  above  us  all  stood  Bro- 
thers Postell  and  Picket.  The  meeting  began  with  the 
marked  presence  of  the  Lord,  deepening  and  widening  from 
hour  to  hour.  I  forget  who  preached  the  first  nigjit  in  the 
Quaker  church  ;  but  there  was  much  feeling  manifested.  I 
had  been  praying  every  day  for  Brother  Jennings's  sons,  and 
they  were  among  the  very  first  mourners  to  come  to  the 
altar.  They  were  also  among  the  first  who  were  converted 
and  joined  the  church.  The  powerful  work  continued  for 
many  days — at  the  stand,  in  the  tents,  in  the  woods,  and 
everywhere.  Perhaps  such  a  time  had  never  been  known  in 
those  parts  before.  Day  after  day  more  interest  seemed  to 
be  manifested.  By  common  consent.  Brother  Postell  was 
made  the  presiding  elder  of  the  meeting,  he  having  had 
much  experience  in  such  meetings. 

A  gentleman  of  wealth,  a  Mr.  Kelly,  not  a  member  of  the 
church,  came  on  the  ground.  One  day,  Brother  P.  changed 
his  programme,  and  by  this  new  disposition  of  his  forces,  he 
hoped,  by  God's  help,  to  gain  a  complete  victory  over  the 
enemy,  who  seemed  to  be  yet  strongly  entrenched  on  some 
portions  of  the  field.  He  appointed  a  love-feast  in  the  church, 
and  preaching  at  the  stand,  at  the  same  time,  and  said,  that 
he  wished  both  services  to  close  at  the  same  moment.  O, 
that  love-feast !  such  a  time  of  power  and  glory.  All  present 
seemed  to  enjoy  it.  It  finally  closed,  and,  the  preaching 
having  ended  about  the  same  time  and  singing  just  begun, 
we  went  there  from  love-feast,  and  the  two  bands  of  happy, 
rejoicing  worshippers  met  together.  Everything  yielded  to 
them,  and  a  tremendous  victory  was  gained — many  were 
converted,  many  joined  the  church. 

•  On  another  day,  we  had  preaching  at  the  stand,  and 
prayer-meeting  in  the  woods,  at  the  same  time.     Both  were 


64  STllAY    LEAVES. 

well  iittuiulc'd,  and  both  closed  at  the  same  moment.  The 
party  from  the  woods — amoni^  thom  many  luippy  converts — 
now  came  up  to  the  stand,  sini^iiiir  and  jn-aisinir  the  Lord  ; 
and  a  second  time  the  exultini^  l)andrt  met  to^-ether,  and 
ma(h^  a  general  charii;e — forcini^  the  enemy  to  aliandon  every 
position,  and  leave  the  field.  1  have  never  witnessed  such 
scenes  in  all  my  roving  lite.  The  gentleman  mentioned 
above,  was  the  father  of  the  Rev.  J,  W.  Kell}',  both  of  whom 
I  have  always  ranked  among  my  best  friends.  Every  day  1 
prayed  for  Mr.  K.,  and  the  Mr.  B.  of  wliom  I  have  spoken. 
He  had  not  yet  arrived,  but  I  still  expected  him.  The  meet- 
ing continued  to  go  on  with  tremendous  power — the  young 
converts  seeming  to  be  deeply  interested  on  the  Lord's  behalf 
hunting  up  theip  worldly  friends^  and  entreating  them  to 
come  to  Jesus.  The  preachers  were  fully  engaged,  Avith 
all  theii*  might,  helping  the  Lord  against  the  mighty.  ]^ro- 
ther  Jennings  and  the  two  Brothers  Glenn,  did  much  good. 
They  were  seen  everywhere,  pressing  the  battle  to  the  gate, 
driving  all  opposition  before  them — while  hell  raged  in  vain, 
and  heaven  I'ejoiced.  Quite  a  large  number  had  been  con- 
verted, and  up  to  this  time  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  had 
joined  the  church.  Some  of  the  most  promising  young  men 
of  the  country  had  come  out  on  the  Lord's  side,  and  were 
soon  to  commence  preaching  the  gospel.  Men,  whose  names 
will  never  die,  had  thrown  down  the  arms  of  their  rebellion, 
and  had  started  for  the  better  world. 

The  morning  came  for  me  to  leave,  or  break  an  engage- 
ment to  go  to  another  meeting,  and  as  the  time  drew  near,  I 
became  much  cast  down,  and  I  was  sorr}^  that  X  had  to  go. 
I  was  entreated  to  remain;  and  Brother  P.  said,  if  I  would 
go,  that  I  must  preach  the  11  o'clock  sermon,  open  the 
doors,  call  up  mourners,  and  take  my  fareAvell.  As  I  was 
walking  over  the  ground,  I  was  met  by  Mr.  B.,  who  had  just 
come.  He  said,  with  a  smile,  that  having  heard  so  much 
ahnrit  the  meeting,  curiosity  bad  brought  him  ovpr.  .1  told 
liiri).  1  Uvd  been  ex-peeiing  bim — that  \ie  rnuHi  in»i  foig*^'! 
V.  hat  i  told  him.  1  then  left  him,  and  went  to  tLo  vvuods  Vj 
pray  before  preaching  my  last  sermon.  The  congregation 
assembled,  and  I  preached  from,  "  He  that  goeth  forth  and 


THE    INVISIBLE    HAND.  65 

weepeth,  bearing  precious  seed,  shall  doubtless  come  again 
with  rejoicing,  bringing  his  sheaves  with  him."  After  the  ser- 
mon was  over,  I  opened  the  door  of  the  church,  and  twenty- 
seven  persons  joined,  among  them  Mr.  B.,  who  had  made  so 
much  sport  of  me,  and  who  did  not  want  religion  until  near 
his  death.  My  feelings  at  seeing  him  weeping  can  never  be 
described.  lie  soon  afterwards  was  converted;  and  many 
years  after,  when  he  was  a  pious  class-leader,  we  met  at  the 
same  place. 

Many  mourners  came  up,  and  my  work  for  the  time  was 
nearly  done.  Mr.  Iv.  and  his  son  still  kejDt  away,  and  I 
thought  I  must  make  another  eifort ;  so  going  up  to  him  as 
near  as  I  could,  I  said  to  him,  ^'  I  may  never  see  you  again 
until  we  meet  at  the  judgment  seat;  I  would  be  glad  to  pray 
for  you."  He  knelt  down,  and  I  prayed  for  him.  When  we 
arose^  I  felt  more  resigned.  He  thanked  me,  but  said,  he 
thought  we  would  meet  again  iu  this  life ;  but  if  not,  he 
would  try  to  meet  me  in  heaven.  He  then  said,  he  wished 
to  join  the  church.  Years  after.  Brother  J.  W.  Kelly  told 
me,  that  he  and  some  other  young  men  used  to  be  afraid  of 
me  when  they  saw  me  coming  out  in  the  congregation,  and 
that  on  that  day  he  first  thought  he  would  leave,  but  finally 
Avent  where  several  young  men  were  standing  ;  that  he  after- 
wards saw  me  praying  for  his  father  ;  he  then  could  remem- 
l)er  no  more,  but  was  told  that  he  fell  between  the  benches, 
and  when  he  came  to  himself  he  found  himself  at  the  altar, 
Avith  his  head  in  his  mother's  lap,  and  asked  for  me,  but  was 
told  I  had  been  gone  for  hours. 

It  required  a  mighty  effort  on  my  part  to  leave,  but  I 
thought  I  ought  to  keep  my  word.  I  have  always  regretted 
having  left  at  that  time,  and  it  seemed  as  if  I  could  almost 
feel  some  invisible  hand  holding  me  back.  I  left  the  stand  : 
on  my  way  a  gentleman,  whom  I  did  not  know,  came  up  to 
me  and  asked  if  my  name  was  not  Lucius  Bellinger,  and  if 
T.  "w^hen  a  little  boy.  wont  to  school,  with  my  brother  .Tohn. 
ui  M.ouiii  Prosp*^<-t  ?  1  told  \\\n\  rh-ai  I  w-a^  ilip  8y,iri>^.  fU 
said  he  wa.s  chere  &i  die  time;  thiiL  he  was  a  member  of  the 
Baptist  church,  and  that  he  had  never  enjoyed  himself  so 
much  before.     With  tears  in   his  eves,  and  with  his  arms 


C)C)  STRAY    LEAVES. 

about  my  neck,  he  bei^ged  me,  for  the  sake  of  the  days  of 
our  boyhood,  to  remain.  He  told  me,  my  labors  had  been 
Messed  there,  but  that  there  was  still  more  work  for  me  to 
do.  But  I  thought  it  would  never  do  not  to  keep  my  pro- 
mise. My  heart  was  greatly  moved  when  I  parted  from  my 
old  class-mate. 

It  appeared  now  as  if  tlic  unseen  liand  was  pulling  me 
back ;  but  I  still  moved  on,  and  met  a  young  gentleman, 
with  a  lady  on  each  arm — all  strangers  to  me.  He  told 
me  who  he  was,  and  that  he  and  his  two  sisters  were 
among  the  mourners  that  came  to  the  altar,  and  that 
they  had  never  been  there  before.  He  said,  they  had  not 
been  converted;  but  thought  if  I  would  preach  one  more 
sermon,  they  would  find  the  pearl  of  great  price.  They 
all  wept,  and  begged  me  to  remain.  I  told  them  I  was 
sorry  I  had  to  go ;  that,  so  to  speak,  I  was  leaving  my 
heart  behind.  They  then  asked  me  to  pray  for  them  right 
there,  and  we  knelt  in  the  sand,  on  the  way  to  the  tents. 
The  Lord  was  present — the  brother  and  one  sister  were 
converted,  and  rejoiced  in  their  Saviour.  The  other  sister, 
still  more  distressed  than  ever,  entreated  me  to  stay.  1 
again  felt  the  touch  of  the  invisible  hand,  but  tore  myself 
away  and  left  the  ground,  with  such  feelings  as  I  hope  never 
again  to  experience.  I  Avent  on  a  little  way.  O,  how  I 
longed  to  stay !  I  turned  round  and  looked  back,  and  could 
still  see  the  camp  ground.  I  again  started  on  my  way,  and 
went  some  distance.  The  unseen  hand  was  too  much  for 
me — I  turned  round  once  more,  and  rode  back,  so  near  that 
I  could  see  the  congregation  still  at  the  stand,  and  could 
hear  the  sweet  songs  of  Zion  ;  but  I  thought  it  would  never 
do  to  break  my  word,  so  I  turned  round,  and  left  old  Cane 
creek  behind  me.  It  was  the  best  meeting  I  ever  attended 
in  my  life.  It  lasted  several  days  longer.  More  than  three 
hundred  persons  joined  the  church,  and  nearly  all  were  con- 
verted. Farewell  to  old  Cane  creek  camp-ground,  with  its 
immortal  memories. 


LEAF  THE  ELEVENTH. 

MY   FIRST    VISIT   TO   ROCK    SPRINGS   CAMP-GROUND,    NORTH   CARO- 
LINA ;    AND   A   WAYSIDE    MEETING. 

My  friends,  have  yoii  never  been  to  the  far-famed  Eock 
Springs  camp-ground?  I  will  tell  you  then,  of  my  first  visit 
there,  many  years  ago.  I  had  my  curiosity  much  excited  by 
a  Brother  Carr,  who  was  then  on  our  circuit.  He  told  me, 
if  I  wished  to  see  the  largest  place  of  the  kind  in  our  church, 
to  go  there.  I  started  on  my  long  journey  all  alone.  Bro- 
ther Carr»had  told  me,  the  meeting  would  commence  on 
Thursday  preceeding  the  first  Sunday  in  August.  I  got  to 
Yorkvilie  in  due  time,  and  was  much  surprised  when  told  I 
Avas  a  week  too  soon.  I  was  an  entire  stranger,  and  knew 
not  what  to  do  at  first ;  but  I  concluded  that  Brother  C. 
must  be  right,  and  those  who  said  otherwise  mistaken.  Some 
one  told  me,  there  was  a  class-leader  living  some  fifteen 
miles  a-head,  who  always  kept  the  time,  and  he  directed 
me  to  him.  So  I  started,  more  than  once  wishing  myself  at 
home.  I  was  then  young  in  the  cause  ;  I  had  not  yet  learned 
to  trust  in  the  Lord  as  much  as  in  my  after  life.  I  at  last 
got  in  sight  of  the  house,  which  stood  on  a  high  hill.  As  I 
was  driving  slowly  up,  I  saw  a  buggy  coming  down  the  hill, 
in  which  there  were  a  lady  and  gentleman.  I  was  suddenly 
impressed  that  they  could  tell  me  something  about  the  meet- 
ing, so  I  stopped  until  they  came  up.  I  asked,  and  was  told 
it  was  a  week  oft'.  I  still  thought  Brother  C.  must  be  right, 
and  these  persons  wrong.  I  told  them  I  was  on  my  way 
there,  and  would  go  on  to  the  house,  and  find  out  all  about 
it.  The  man  said,  he  was  on  his  way  home  from  one  camp- 
meeting,  and  expected  to  attend  that  one,  and  he  knew  he 
was  right.  As  I  was  moving  off,  I  saw  the  lady  whisper  to 
the  gentleman,  who  asked  me  to  stop,  and  then  observed, 
"My  wife  says  she  knows  you  are  a  Methodist  minister;  and 
that  I  would  regret  it,  if  I  did  not  stop  you."  He  told  me, 
he  was  the  preacher  on  that  circuit,  and  had  been  ordered'to 


68  STIJAV    LKAVKS. 

Uoc'k  Springs  next  week;  and  he  inqiiircMl  my  iiaino.  I  (old 
liim  who  I  was. 

"Oh!"  said  he,  ••  Brother  1^..  I  liave  heard  of  you,  and  3-011 
are  the  very  man  1  wished  to  see.  ]\fy  name  is  MeKih])cn  ;" 
and  he  told  me  lie  had  a  three  days'  meetini^  some  tliirty 
miles  below,  and  that  he  wished  I  would  turn  haek,  and  ^o 
there  with  him.  and  afterwards  we  could  fi;o  to  Itoek  Springs. 
I  did  not  like  the  idea  of  turning  back  so  far,  but  at  last  con- 
cluded to  do  so.  And  that  was  the  place  and  manner  in 
which  I  tirst  met  with  Brother  ]\rcK. — a  whole-souled  man 
and  true,  if  there  are  any  such  in  this  unfriendly  world. 

"But,"  says  some  one,  ^'Avhat  of  the  wayside  meeting?" 
That  was  the  one  to  which  he  turned  me  back.  AVe  retraced 
our  steps  to  an  old  school-house,  in  which  it  waf^held.  We 
stopped  at  the  house  of  a  sister  Postell,  the  wife  of  a  brother 
of  tlie  Rev.  James  C.  Postell.  She  was  a  widow,  and  I  found 
her  to  be  a  kind  and  good  lady.  That  Avas  my  oidy  visit  to 
her  house — it  was  a  time  of  much  pleasure,  of  which  I  often 
think,  and  hope  never  to  forget.  There  were  not  many  out 
the  first  day ;  but  the  number  continued  to  increase  during 
the  continuance  of  the  meeting.  It  Avas  then  I  first  heard 
Brother  McK.  He  was  plain,  practical,  strong,  always  to 
the  point.  He  always  folknved  his  text;  and,  in  my  (^pinion, 
was  neither  too  short  nor  too  long.  On  Sunday,  as  there 
were  a  great  many  out.  Ave  had  to  preach  out  of  doors.  The 
presence  of  the  Lord  was  evidently  felt;  and  Brother  Mclv. 
gaA'c  us  a  strong  sermon.  The  feeling  Avas  such  that  he 
thought  the  meeting  should  be  continued,  though  he  had 
to  leuA^e  for  another  appointment.  He  requested  me,  with 
some  others,  to  remain  until  it  Avas  time  to  leaA^e  for  Kock 
Springs,  The  interest  appeared  to  increase  ;  the  Holy  vSpirit 
Avas  poAverfuUy  present.  Sinners  Avere  deeply  convicted,  and 
some  mourners  happily  converted,  and  I  think  several  joined 
rhe  r-hurob.     Preaching  was  again  given  out  for  the  next 

dyv.   and     1     st-i\-.-d    :il     ■.jsi.c    !^.-<^d^s — :-!    id;/ 'hi     l<>ri--  r<»   l>f-   f- 

iiiembej-eu. 

1  might  as  well  say  here,  that  some  of  my  friends  hav« 
long  known,  that  I  often  haA' e  had  very  remarkable  dreams, 
Avhich  came  to  pass — that  I  sometimes  preach,  and  exhort, 


A    REMxVKKABLE    DREAM.  69 

and  become  very  happy  while  asleep — sometimes  disturbing 
the  family,  where  I  happen  to  be,  very  much.  Sometimes  I 
can  recall  every  incident  of  my  dream ;  and  at  other  times, 
I  know  nothing  of  w^hat  has  happened.  I  was  told,  the  next 
morning,  that  I  had  disturbed  the  whole  house,  by  making 
quite  a  noise,  clapping  my  hands,  shouting,  etc.,  and  I  was 
asked  what  was  the  matter. 

I  pledge  my  honor  for  what  I  am  going  to  relate.  I  told 
them,  that  I  thought  we  would  enjoy  our  best  season  that 
day ;  for  I  dreamed  I  was  at  the  meeting,  and  we  had  a  most 
glorious  time ;  and  that  a  young  man,  who  had  black  eyes 
and  hail* — the  latter  being  worn  rather  long,  and  Avho  was  of 
a  dark  complexion,  came  up  to  be  prayed  for,  and  remained 
there  until  happily  converted,  when  he  praised  God  aloud ; 
and  then  turning  to  me,  said,  "  Sir,  I  wish  to  join  the  church ;" 
adding,  '•  I  would  rather  give  my  hand  to  you  than  any  man 
I  have  ever  seen  ;  you  need  not  be  afraid  of  me ;  for.  I)y  the 
help  of  God,  I  will  fight  the  whole  warfare  through."  At 
that  time  I  praised  God  aloud — which  was  the  noise  they 
heard.  I  told  them  my  faith  led  me  to  expect  it  would  all 
come  to  pass.  Had  some  of  m}'  friends,  who  have  long 
known  me,  been  there,  perhaps  they  would  not  have  been  as 
much  surprised  as  that  family  seemed  to  be ;  though  they 
only  said,  there  was  such  a  young  man  there,  who  was  much 
I'espected. 

The  time  for  the  meeting  drew  nigh — my  hope  in  the  Lord 
remaining  firm  and  steadfast,  never  for  a  moment  doubting 
the  result ;  for  I  believed  that  our  Lord  was  just  as  willing 
to  answer  prayer  in  these  days  as  when  those  words  were 
spoken,  ''ask,  and  ye  shall  receive;  seek,  and  ye  shall  find." 

Service  began,  and  the  text  was  taken  from  II  Kings  vii. 
3.  4.  The  strength  of  Israel  was  gloriously  present  on  that 
momentous  occasion.  iSTear  the  door  stood  the  young  man 
whom  I  had  seen  the  night  before  in  my  sleep — a  fine  look- 
ing youth,  black  eyes,  and  hair  that  hung  very  low,  and  of  a 
dark  complexion.  If  I  had  given  way  to  my  feelings  every 
time  I  looked  at  him,  I  would  have  said,  "  I  saw  }^ou  last 
night ;  and  I  am  counting  on  you  to-day ;"  and  it  was  with 
an  etfort  I  restrained  mj-self.     At  the  close  of  the  sermon,  I 


70  STRAY    LEAVES. 

culled  up  mourncrc^.  At  once  Bovcral  cainc  up,  among  them 
the  young  man,  who  seemed  much  ali'ecte^  and  before  he 
reached  the  place  of  prayer  there  seemed  to  be  a  great  im- 
pression in  the  assembly.  He  fell  on  his  knees,  and  remained 
there  for  a  long  time.  We  sang  and  prayed  with  him,  and 
the  feeling  seemed  to  increase  among  the  congregation.  I 
have  seen  but  few  scenes  in  my  life  of  more  than  thirty 
years  as  a  preacher,  that  can  be  compared  to  that  of  which 
1  am  now  writing.  I  think  heaven  was  as  near  me  then, 
and  hell  as  far  off,  as  at  any  time  during  my  life.  At  last, 
the  dark-eyed  youth  sprang  quickly  to  his  feet,  with  a  tear 
and  a  smile  on  his  countenance,  and,  "  O,"  said  he,  "  I  am 
so  happy ! "  lie  then  turned  to  me,  and  said,  "  I  wish  to 
join  the  church ;  I  would  rather  give  my  hand  to  you  than 
to  any  man  I  ever  saw.  You  need  not  be  afraid  of  me ;  for, 
by  God's  help,  I  will  fight  the  whole  warfare  through."  I 
will  not  attempt  to  describe  the  effect  of  these  w^ords  of  the 
young  convert  upon  myself  and  the  congregation.  I  heard 
some  of  the  old  members  say,  "  we  will  have  a  class-leader 
now."  Some  years  after,  Avhile  passing  through  that  neigh- 
borhood, I  spent  a  night  with  that  young  man.  He  was 
then  a  class-leader,  and  had  a  wife  and  one  child,  and  seemed 
to  be  bound  for  heaven.  I  have  never  seen  sister  Postell 
since ;  but  I  suspect,  if  any  of  her  family  are  living,  they  still 
remember  the  Strange  Preacher,  and  the  dark-eyed  young 
man  who  joined  the  church  that  day. 

It  is  time  now  to  proceed  to  Rock  Springs  camp-ground, 
where  I  did  not  expect  to  know  any  one  but  Brother  McK. 
I  arrived  there  safely  in  due  time,  and  found  that  scarcely 
the  half  had  been  told  me.  I  had  never  seen  such  a  vast 
crowd  before.  The  famous  London  of  camp-grounds  was 
before  me.  My  mind  was  so  impressed  by  the  sight  of  the' 
multiplied  thousands  there,  that  I  did  not  notice  as  much  of 
the  preaching,  and  the  effect  produced  on  the  people,  as  I 
generally  do.  Binnakers,  Black  Swamp,  Cane-creek,  Provi- 
dence, Cattle-creek,  Mount  Carmel,  and  Broxton's  Bridge — 
are  all  small  places,  when  compared  with  Eock  Springs. 
There  stood  the  tents,  three  rows  deep,  with  more  than  a 
hundred  in  each  row ;  while  some  distance  farther  off  were 


MODES   OF    AMUSEMENT.  71 

seen  vast  numbers  of  cloth  tents,  like  hills  of  snow,  on  which 
the  rising  and  setting  sun  shone  so  bright.  While  writing 
of  Eock  Springs,  and  the  vast  multitudes  which  I  saw  there, 
some  of  them  more  than  a  hundred  miles  from  home,  I  feel 
like  saying  to  myself,  "  if  all  those  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren, who  were  present,  were  whole-souled,  thorough-going 
Christians,  what  a  vast  amount  of  good  might  be  accom- 
plished, and  how  gloriously  might  our  Saviour's  kingdom  be 
advanced !  " 

I  was  introduced  to  many  members  of  the  church,  and  was 
treated  with  much  respect,  and  had  more  invitations  than  I 
could  meet ;  but  still,  there  were  so  many  thousands  there  of 
whom  I  knew  nothing,  that  I  felt  like  a  stranger  during  my 
first  visit.  I  confess,  that  I  looked  more  at  the  multitude 
before  me,  than  at  the  single  man  w^ho  was  preaching.  At 
each  successive  service,  though  there  were  many  thousands 
who  listened  with  apparent  respect  to  the  word,  there  Avas 
always  a  very  large  crowd  who  stayed  away.  One  day,  I 
went  out  among  them,  and  found  them  amusing  themselves 
in  different  ways — some  laughing,  some  talking,  some  read- 
ing, some  writing,  some  eating,  some  gettijig  drunk,  others 
buying  or  selling  horses,  some  cursing,  others  whooping  as 
if  they  were  on  a  fox-chase ;  some  were  asleep,  partly  open- 
ing their  heavy  eyes  as  I  passed,  others  so  buried  in  slum- 
ber that  you  might  think  nothing  would  rouse  them  up  but 
a  tremendous  blast  from  Gabriel's  trumpet ;  some  looking 
very  serious,  as  if  they  were  sorry  they  had  not  gone  to  the 
stand;  while  others  were  separated  from  the  rest,  as  if  they 
wanted  nothing  to  do  with  any  but  those  belonging  to  their 
own  party.  But  the  Holy  One  of  Israel  was  present  to  bless 
the  word  preached  in  faith,  and  also  those  who  prayed  for 
the  salvation  of  Israel. 

During  the  intervals  of  service,  prayer  and  singing  could 
be  heard  before  the  tents,  and  sometimes  a  preacher  or  ex- 
horter  would  stand  up  and  preach,  the  Lord  blessing  their 
labor.  Brother  McK.  and  others  preached  with  spirit  and 
power,  and  seemed  to  be  used  to  such  vast  crowds,  and  knew 
full  well  what  was  best  to  be  done.  At  times,  the  great 
crowd  seemed  to  be  moved  by  tremendous  impressions,  and 


72  STRAY    LEAVES. 

there  was  piiii^iiii;  th:it  seemed  almost  loud  enough  to  ])e 
heard  for  miles.  And  then,  when  a  general  shout  went  up 
from  the  hundreds  of  rejoicing  souls  who  were  not  ashamed 
for  sinners  and  devils  to  hear  them,  you  might  almost 
imagine  that  the  dwellers  on  the  other  side  of  the  river  of 
death  heard  the  praises  of  God's  people. 

Saturday  night  arrived,  and  many  thousands  had  assem- 
bled ;  and  you  felt  like  asking,  if  they  would  at  last  settle 
down,  and  be  as  quiet  as  the  occasion  would  permit  ?  Yes  ; 
for  the  mighty  ocean  sometimes  ceases  its  raging,  and  re- 
minds you  of  a  quiet  inland  lake.  The  trees  of  a  might}' 
forest  do  not  always  bend  beneath  the  strong  winds  of 
heaven,  for  those  winds  do  not  alwaj's  lilow.  So  the  tre- 
mendous, moving,  restless  crowd  at  last  quieted  down,  and 
was  as  a  sleeping  infant  on  it  mother's  breast.  But  now, 
the  singing  again  begun,  and  those  loud  voices  appeared  to 
rise  towards  the  heavens,  and  then  that  throng  boAved  in 
humble  prayer  before  the  Lord  of  hosts.  The  Spirit  was 
powerfully  present,  and  the  arrows  of  truth  flew  through 
that  dense  crowd.  The  impression  was  stiong,  and  all 
seemed  to  participate  in  the  feeling  of  the  presence  of  God.  A 
crowd  of  mourners  came  forward,  and  their  friends  gathered 
around  them,  urging  and  encouraging  them  to  go  to  Jesus. 
And  the  shouts  of  the  new-born  souls  were  heard  at  all  hours 
of  the  night,  from  all  parts  ofthat  immense  camp-ground. 

The  time  for  the  11  o'clock  sermon  on  Sunday  came,  and 
the  crowd  was  much  larger  than  before — that  immense  place 
was  filled  to  overflowing.  Carriages  and  buggies  were 
ranged  round,  and  benches  and  chairs  were  brought  from 
the  tents,  and  filled,  and  yet  hundreds  remained  standing. 
A  powerful  impression  seemed  to  be  upon  the  dense  throng, 
and  tears  of  repentance  were  falling  from  hundreds  of  weep- 
ing eyes — while  heaven-born  smiles  were  seen  on  hundreds 
of  happy  faces. 

My  first  visit  to  Kock  springs,  the  London  of  camp-grounds, 
is  past ;  and  many  are  now  in  heaven,  who  then  and  there 
praised  the  God  of  their  salvation ;  but,  O,  my  soul !  how 
many  are  now  in  hell,  who  then  and  there  refused  the  ofl'er 
of  mercv. 


LEAF  THE  TWELFTH. 

THE  BLACK  SWAMP  CAMP-MEETING,  WHERE  THE  COLONEL  OF 
THE  BEAUFORT  RANGERS  SURRENDERED  HIS  SWORD,  AND 
THE  CAPTAIN  OF  THE  GILLISONVILLE  GUARDS  LEFT  HIS 
POST. 

Old  Black  Swamx)  camp-ground — holy  place !  time-honored 
spot  of  earth !  never  can  I  forget  thee.  O !  ye  friends  of  mine, 
who  have  gone  to  heaven  from  that  once  happy  neighborhood, 
and  who  are  now  safe  in  glory,  if  you  ever  in  your  holy  home 
above  remember  brethren  on  earth,  I  hope  you  sometimes 
think  of  me.  Blessed  spirit  of  Brother  Joseph  Manor  Law- 
ton! —  much-loved  class-leader  of  old  Union  church  —  hast 
thou,  throned  and  crowned  in  heaven,  no  thought  of  those 
friends  still  left  on  earth — ^preachers  and  others,  who  were 
always  made  to  feel  at  home  under  thy  friendly  roof?  Loved 
friend !  gone  to  a  happier  Eden  than  man  first  lost,  dost 
thou  not  often  think  of  those  left  behind — some  of  whom 
even  now  at  times  imagine  that  they  still  hear  thy  kind 
greeting  ?  Blessed  spirit !  dost  thou  ever  spread  thy  golden 
wings  to  revisit  thy  fatherland  here  below  ?  If  thou  dost, 
I  know  thou  art  often  hovering  over  Black  Swamp  camp- 
ground, and  thy  much-loved  Union  church.  O !  ye  friends 
of  Christ  and  the  church,  who,  in  these  troublous  times,  have 
your  tents  still  pitched  within  the  bounds  of  Black  Swamp 
circuit,  I  hope  you  sometimes  think  of  the  preachers  who 
used  to  sit  with  you  in  heavenly  places  in  Christ  Jesus.  I 
often  think  of  you,  and  hope  your  faith  is  still  firmly  fixed 
on  the  Eock  of  Ages,  and  that  you  will  land  safely  on  the 
other  side  of  Jordan  when  life's  pilgrimage  is  over. 

Come,  let  us  now,  in  our  imagination,  visit  the  old  place, 
and  record  some  scenes  connected  with  that  well-remembered 
meeting. 

The  time  for  the  meeting  had  come,  and  the  presiding 

elder — whole-souled  Dr.  Boyd — with  his  staff  had  arrived. 

The  meeting  began  well,  and  continued  to  increase  in  inter- 

5  ' 


74  STHAV    J.EAVKS. 

I'st.  The  second  even  in  <^'  had  come,  and  it  was  almost  time 
for  the  sun  to  set,  and  the  camp-fires  would  soon  be  brightly 
burninf^ — and  ])erhaps  the  heavenly  guard,  Tvhich  had  been 
around  the  camp  all  day,  was  to  be  enlarged.  The  preach- 
ers, who  were  still  expected,  came  in  due  time,  and  their 
many  friends  gathered  around  them — Major  G.  among  them; 
and  who,  that  has  ever  felt  the  grasp  of  his  hand,  can  ever 
forget  it?  There,  too,  was  Major  E.,  with  his  smile  of  friendl}^ 
welcome  ;  and  Brother  E.  M.,  with  his  kindly  greeting.  But 
who  is  that,  approaching  with  quick  step,  to  shake  hands 
with  Dr.  W.,  and  him  who  now  writes  these  lines  ?.  It  was 
the  much-loved  class-leader  of  Union  church — Brother  J. 
M.  L.,  the  perfect  Christian,  and  the  noble  gentleman — who 
came  more  fully  up  to  old  Horace's  description  of  the  ^-f actus 
homo  ad  ungucin"  than  the  best  Eoman  who  ever  crossed  the 
Tiber  in  those  immortal  days. 

The  meeting  continued  on  with  blessed  results ;  and,  O, 
what  a  happy  time  we  had  from  the  Lord !  The  Holy  Spirit 
came  down,  and  the  friends  of  Jesus  sung  the  sweet  songs  I 
loved  so  much — ''There  is  a  happy  land,  far,  far  away;" 
''Our  bondage  here  will  end  by  and  bye ;"  "  I  would  not  live 
alway ; "  and  many  others.  The  preachers  appeared  to  be 
full  of  the  blessed  Spirit;  Christians  rejoiced;  sinners  were 
deeply  convicted ;  and  mourners  were  happily  converted 
while  the  shouts  of  the  exulting  servants  of  the  Lord  rang 
through  the  grand  old  woods  that  border  on  the  Savannah 
river.  I  can  never  forget  how  much  I  enjoyed  myself  when 
Brother  Bond  Ejiglish  was  preaching  about  the  heavenly 
gardener,  and  of  Mary  weeping  over  the  yet  undiscovered 
Jesus,  and  saying,  "if  you  have  carried  him  away,  O!  tell 
me  where  you  have  laid  him."  Brother  E.  went  on,  and  the 
heavens  seemed  to  be  coming  nearer  the  earth  ;  and  many 
who  listened  and  wept  as  they  hung  on  his  eloquence,  will 
often  remember  those  moving  words,  "O!  tell  me  where  you 
have  laid  him;"  and  many,  who  had  with  much  pleasure 
heard  the  preacher  before,  thought  that  he  was  then  preach- 
ing his  best  sermon.  In  the  intervals  of  service,  the  time 
was  well  spent  in  some  of  the  tents — exhortation  followed 
prayer,  and  song  followed  song.     The  holy  feeling  seemed  to 


THE   TIDE    RISING.  75 

widen  more  and  still  more.  I  went  into  the  woods  with 
others,  to  pray  for  the  trembling  mourners  who  were  still 
unconverted,  unblessed.  They  cried  for  mercy,  and  entreated 
their  friends  not  to  leave  them.  When  we  got  there,  Bro- 
ther J.  M.  L.,  with  a  heart  full  of  love  and  eyes  full  of  tears, 
spoke  to  those  weeping  souls,  begging  them  to  go  to  Jesus 
■just  as  they  were,  with  no  hope,  no  trust,  in  any  other  name; 
and  then  the  woods  rang  with  the  sweet  songs  of  Zion ;  then 
Brother  Blunt  prayed,  and  the  Lord  heard ;  and  Colonel 
J.  A.  and  his  brother  seemed  full  of  happy,  holy  thoughts. 

But  who  is  that  now  coming  up  so  gallantly  to  the  help  of 
the  Lord  against  the  mighty?  Who  that  knew  him  well 
can  ever  forget  that  war-worn  veteran  of  a  thousand  battle- 
fields— that  sanctified  knight  of  the  cross — a  preacher  "with- 
out reproach" — Brother  McPhail.  How  he  moved  about, 
speaking  suitable  words  to  all ;  and  then  he  prayed  ;  and 
first  one  and  then  another  was  happily  converted.  xVnd  then 
the  good  man  clapped  his  trembling  hands  together,  and 
passed  through  the  throng,  singing,  with  a  voice  that  trem- 
bled too,  • 

"  0  !  brethren,  will  you  meet  me,  In  Canaan's  happy  land?  " 

And  then.  Brothers  Lawton,  Martin,  Davis,  Solomons, 
Blunt,  Allen,  Eoberts,  and  others,  all  sung  together, 

'•Yes,  by  the  grace  of  God,  we'll  meet  you,  In  Canaan's  happy  land." 

We  then  went  to  the  stand  where  Dr.  B.  was  to  preach, 
and  the  meeting  still  continued  to  increase  in  interest,  for  a 
prince  of  Israel  was  now  on  the  walls  of  Zion.  The  large 
crowd  appeared  to  be  still  more  interested  as  the  preacher 
went  on  gathering  holy  strength,  and  the  mourners  came  up 
more  willingly  than  ever,  even  before  the  singing  commenced. 
Those  who  were  never  there  before  came  then,  as  if  they 
thought  death  and  hell  were  close  behind  them  ;  prayer  fol- 
lowed prayer,  and  song  succeeded  song ;  and  holy  angels 
who  were  hovering  near,  carried  the  blessed  tidings  that  the 
dead  had  arisen  and  the  lost  were  found. 

I^ow,  my  friends,  let  me  introduce  you  to  the  young  Colonel 
of  the  Beaufort  Eangers,  and  the  gallant  Captain  of  the  Gil- 


76  STRAY    LEAVES. 

lisonville  Guards.  See  the  Strange  Preacher  seated  by  a 
gentleman,  who  appears  very  glad  to  see  him.  They  are 
conversing  in  a  low  voice ;  now  they  draw  closer  together — 
the  preacher  taking  his  friend  by  the  hand,  and  speaking 
with  a  serious  face.  See  how  the  gentleman  hangs  his  head, 
apparently  listening,  but  for  a  while  saying  nothing.  That 
man  is  the  Colonel ;  and  his  friend  is  now  telling  him  of  the 
time  when  he  was  a  young  man,  not  yet  of  age — of  the  time 
when  he  joined  the  church  and  professed  religion ;  and  how 
his  sister,  the  sweet  singer  of  the  Barnwell  circuit,  and  many 
others,  thought  he  would  be  a  preacher  in  after  life.  That 
young  man,  who  was  then  on  his  way  to  heaven,  is  now  the 
the  Colonel  of  the  Beaufort  Eangers,  and  is  on  his  way  to 
perdition.  He  remembers  full  well  those  better  days.  After 
a  while,  he  recovers  partly  from  his  emotion,  and  raises  his 
head,  and  says  to  his  friend,  "  Those,  sir,  were  by  far  my 
happiest  days ;  for  I  felt  that  I  was  called  to  preach  when  I 
first  joined  the  church,  but  would  not  do  so,  and  then  I  lost 
my  religion."  He  then  added,  with  a  serious  face,  "  Prince 
Immanuel  has  many  officers. in  his-service;  and  if  I  ever  feel 
like  enlisting  again,  I  w.ould  much  prefer  surrendering  my  . 
sword  to  you."  The  preacher  replied,  that  whenever  the 
Colonel  is  ready  to  do  so,  he  will  w4th  much  pleasure  receive 
his  sword,  in  the  name  of  Prince  Immanuel. 

And  now,  my  friends,  come  with  me  to  another  tent.  Let 
us  wait  and  listen.  There  is  a  strong  mind  present,  who 
leads  in  the  general  conversation — to  whom  all  are  listening 
with  much  interest.  Would  you  not  know -him  again  among 
a  thousand  ?     He  is  the  Captain  of  the  Gillisonville  Guards. 

But  we  are  again  summoned  to  the  stand.  The  Strange 
•Preacher  says  to  himself,  "  I  must  pray  in  private  for  those 
two  friends ;  for  the  Colonel  has  given  me  a  hint.  If  I  am 
called  to  the  pulpit,  I  will  try  to  paint  a  picture  for  them 
which  I  hope  they  will  not  soon  forget.  The  Colonel  was 
once  with  us ;  O,  how  I  wish  he  would  come  back  again ! 
And,  O,  that  the  Captain's  heart  might  be  reached  !  If  he 
were  to  come  out  on  the  Lord's  side,  a  great  victory  would 
be  won,  and  the  kingdom  of  darkness  w^ould  tremble  almost 
to  its  foundation." 


THE   GREAT    BATTLE.  '  77 

The  congregation  at  the  stand  Avas  large.  The  seats  were 
all  filled — carriages  and  buggies  were  rolled  up  and  occupied 
— benches  and  chairs  were  brought  from  the  tents — and  yet 
Beveral  remained  standing.  This  was  the  most  important 
hour  of  the  meeting.  Dr.  AYightman  was  in  the  pulpit,  and 
expectation  was  very  high.  He  had  many  friends  present, 
who  had  often  heard  him  with  much  pleasure,  and  their 
hopes  were  now  fully  realized ;  for,  by  the  help  of  the  Lord, 
the  great  sermon  of  the  meeting  was  then  preached.  The 
interest  which  Avas  at  first  manifested  grew  deeper ;  but  the 
great  battle  had  not  yet  been  fought.  Dr.  W.  rose  and  soared 
in  one  eagle  flight  after  another.  B}"  the  help  of  the  Lord, 
he  bent  the  far-famed  bow  of  Ulysses,  and  shot  all  the  arrows 
through  all  the  rings.     But  I  must  hasten  on. 

At  the  3  o'clock  service,  the  Strange  Preacher  occupied 
the  pulpit,  and  the  friends,  by  his  request,  Avere  singing  a 
song  he  loved  very  much — hundreds  were  singing — 

''  I've  listed,  and  I  mean  to  fight 
Till  the  warfare  is  over. ' ' 

The  preacher  told  the  congregation,  near  the  close  of  the 
sermon,  that  the  meeting  would  soon  end,  and  that  much 
depended  on  the  results  of  the  passing  hour.  He  told  them, 
that  perhaps  the  report  of  the  great  battle  then  going  on, 
had  not  yet  reached  the  court  of  the  King  of  perdition ;  and 
he  attempted  to  paint  the  scene  which  was  soon  to  take 
place,  when  the  news  of  what  was  now  going  on  should  be 
known  in  hell's  dark  empire;  and  he  begged  them,  for  a 
little  while,  to  imagine  themselves  present  when  the  great 
Enemy  of  man  first  hears  the  report  of  the  Black  Swamp 
meeting. 

The  gloomy  King  was  represented  as  seated  on  his  fiery 
throne,  with  his  chief  princes  around  him.  The  black  plumes 
of  the  vulture  of  despair  waved  over  the  Monarch's  brow,  and 
his  relentless  guards  were  about  him.  All  the  court  was  in 
full  dress,  and  the  ambassadors  from  diflerent  parts  of  the 
empire  were  present.  It  was  a  grand  public  day  in  hell.  All 
the  great  master  spirits,  who  drew  their  swords  with  him 
when  he  first  unfurled  his  flag  of  rebellion  in  heaven,  stood 


78  •     STRAY  i,i:avks. 

close  around  the  arclinni^ol  fallen.  The  standini::  army  of 
perdition  was  seen  in  the  distance,  passini)-  in  awful  review 
on  one  of  the  ever-luirnini!;  ])lains  of  damnation,  before  some 
great  spirit,  who  for  the  time  rej)resents  the  absent  Monarch. 
Suddenly,  a  loud  knocking  is  heard  at  the  closed  outer  (h)ors 
of  the  palace,  and  there  is  a  slight  stir  within.  Some  one 
steps  up  and  wliispers  to  the  Monarch.  He  speaks  out  aloud, 
"  No  secrets  here,  when  I  am  on  my  throne,  and  my  court 
in  full  dress  before  me.  Let  the  expected  messengers  from 
distant  lands  enter  one  at  a  time,  and  report  what  news  they 
bring." 

The  outer  doors  are  opened  now,  "  and  their  hinges  grato 
harsh  thunder."  First  one  comes,  and  then  another,  each  in 
due  form  saluting  the  King.  The  news  generally,  if  not 
pleas*ant,  does  not  alarm  him.  He  nods,  or  smiles,  or  looks 
slightly  serious,  or  speaks  to  some  of  the  lords  close  by.  One 
after •  another  they  come — from  Africa,  from  Europe,  from 
America,  from  the  Isles  Of  the  Sea — from  all  the  world.  One 
comes  at  last,  with  signs  of  distant  travel  about  him.  He  is 
just  now  from  Burmah.     He  says — 

•^  My  lord  king,  every  thing  is  going  on  generally  well 
there ;  except  that  the  Baptists  are  gradually  winning  their 
way ;  and  Dr.  Judson  is  much  respected,  and  may  in  time 
render  your  Majesty  much  damage." 

The  Monarch  replies,  that  he  is  aware  of  that,  and  will 
strengthen  those  places.  The  messengers  still  come,  some 
with  news  so  pleasant,  that  he  claps  his  hands,  and  says — ■ 
<'  that  -will  do  ;  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it.  You  may  expect 
promotion  soon." 

And  now,  one  comes  wha  has  not  been  seen  there  for  a 
long  time.  He  pays  his  respects  to-  the  throne,  and  seems 
to  know  right  well  how  he  will  be  welcomed.     He  says — 

"My  lord  king,  good  news  from  China.  Every  thing  is 
going  on  there  as  well  as  you  could  wish.  There  is  no  sign 
of  danger."  He  is  about  to  bow  low  now,  and  depart,  but 
adds — "  My  lord,  one  thing  I  had  almost  forgotten.  On  mv 
return,  as  I  was  fl>^ng  over  the  deep,  I  saw,  far  down  below 
me,  a  distant  ship.  Some  strong  impulse  drew  me  near  the 
vessel    There  was  a  crowd  on  board,     I  found  out,  by  some 


THE    GRAND    COUNCIL.  7d 

talking  I  heard,  that  there  were  two  preachers  among  them, 
from  the  Methodist  Church,  South,  on  their  way  to  China,  to 
convert  the  people.  They  were  not  in  the  best  of  spirits. 
One  of  them  said  to  the  other,  ^  You  know,  brother,  the  great 
difficulty  will  be  to  learn  the  language.'  'Yes,'  said  the 
other,  '  it  will  take  almost  a  life-time  to  master  it.'  I  think, 
my  lord,  you  need  not  fear  those  men  for  a  while.", 

"]N"o,"  says  the  king,  "not  for  a  while;  but  those  preach- 
ers must  be  looked  after.  You  may  expect  promotion  soon. 
Have  they  not  all  come,"  inquired  the  King. 

"[N'o,  my  lord;  there  is  still  one  absent." 

"  I  wish  he  would  hasten ;  for  I  am  expected  to  be  present 
at  the  close  of  the  review." 

"  He  is  come  now,"  is  heard  from  the  outer  courts;  '-'He  is- 
eonie,"  is  spoken  still  nearer  the  throne.  A  spirit  enters  in 
haste.  He  has  no  wish  to  change  his  dusty  robes  for  his  full 
court  dress.  He  enters,  with  sad  news  full,  with  a  face  far 
more  woe-begone  than  that  man  who  at  dead  of  night  drew 
aside  old  Priam's  curtain,  and  told  him,  more  than  half  his 
Troy  was  burnt.  He  bows  not  the  knee ;  he  pays  no  respects 
to  the  throne ;  he  does  not  kiss  the  Monarch's  ample  robe. 
'•Arrest  the  traitor,"  cries  the  King;  ''hurl  him  into  the 
lowest  prison."  The  guards  rush  up.  The  messenger  stands 
unmoved,  with  sad  news  full.  "  Stop,  my  lord  king,"  says 
he,  "you  have  no  truer  servant  here  than  I  am."  The  King 
signs  to  the  guards  to  pause. 

The  spirit  says,  "  Excuse  my  abrupt  entrance,  my  unbent 
knee ;  no  time  for  courtly  respects  now.  I  am  just  from 
Black  SAvamp  camp-ground.  I  never  flew  so  fast  on  my 
dark  wings  before.  Sad  news,  my  lord,  from  Black  Swamp ; 
and  I,  the  unhappy  messenger." 

"What!"  said  the  Monarch,  "from  Black  Swamp,  did  you 
say?" 

"  Yes,  my  lord." 

"  Why,  I  feared  no  repulse  there.  Come,  tell  me  all,  at 
once  I  But  stop,  first  close  all  the  inner  and  the  outer  doors  ; 
let  no  one  leave  the  presence.     Come,  now ;  the  news  ! " 

"  Well,  my  lord ;  as  I  was  returning,  on  rapid  wing,  from 
where  I  had  first  been  sent,  I  passed  near  the  place,  and 


80  STRAY    LEAVES. 

heard  the  tiound  of  song  and  prayer,  ottered  up  to  our  Dread 
Enemy.  I  paused,  I  turned  aside,  I  joined  the  crowd,  and 
found  much  more  thaVi  usual  interest  manifested.  Every 
sermon  preached  seemed  to  make  an  im2:)iession  on  tho:<o 
who  listened ;  while  every  now  and  then,  some  of  those 
whom  I  thought  true  to  you,  were  confessing  their  sins, 
and  begging  for  mercy  from  Prince  Immanuel.  Dr.  Boyd 
preached  one  of  his  best  sermons;  the  congregation  was 
much  excited ;  the  mourners  rushed  up  in  crowds.  But  the 
great  effort  was  made  by  Dr.  Wightman ;  and  you  know, 
my  lord,  he  can  preach,  for  you  have  heard  him." 

"  Yes,"  says  the  King,  "  the  Doctor  knows  how  to  preach  ; 
but  go  on." 

"  When  the  Doctor  finished,"  said  the  spirit,  "  I  said  to 
myself,  '  without  help  all  is  lost.'  I  heard  your  gteat  friend, 
General  K.,  from  the  other  side  of  the  Savannah  river,  say 
to  some  one  at  his  side,  '  let  us  go  to  the  altar,'  and  on  they 
went." 

"  That  is  strange  news,"  said  the  Monarch,  as  he  shook 
his  black  plumes ;  "  strange,  indeed.  But  I  have  not  time 
for  all.  How  is  it  with  the  Colonel  of  the  Beaufort  Eangers, 
and  the  Captain  of  the  Gillisonville  Guards  ?  I  know  they 
are  still  true  to  me." 

"Ah,  my  lord!  the  worst  is  yet  to  be  told.  I  have  not 
seen  the  Colonel  so  much  affected  for  years.  I  am  afraid 
he  is  lost  to  you." 

"  What  of  the  Captain  ?    I  know  it  is  all  right  with  him." 

"  My  lord,  the  Captain  was  still  at  his  post ;  but  he  was 
bleeding  from  more  than  a  score  of  wounds.  He  had  lost  his 
battle-axe;  he  was  fighting  bare-headed  ;  his  keen  Damascus 
sword  was  broken  at  the  hilt ;  he  had  shot  his  last  arrow ; 
and  he  had  nothing  but  his  long  lance  left — he  leaned  against 
it,  only  for  a  moment,  to  breathe,  and  Siiid  to  me,  'help,  at 
once,  or  all  is  lost.  Tell  your  king,  without  instant  help,  all 
is  ruined.'  " 

The  Monarch  springs  from  his  throne,  shaking  desperately 
his  black  plumes.  He  draws  his  sword,  he  throws  away  his 
scabbard.  And  now  a  cry  is  raised  throughout  all  the  court, 
"  Volunteers  !  volunteers  for  Black  Swamp." 


A   GENERAL   SURRENDER.  81 

'•But  one  word  more,"  says  the  spirit.  "Stop,  my  lord 
king.  As  I  was  spreading  my  wings  for  flight,  I  heard  that 
old  preacher,  MePhail,  whisper  to  Dr.  B.,  and  say,  '  If  you 
will  order  a  general  charge  of  bayonets  soon,  you  will  sweep 
the  field ;  you  know  they  cannot  stand  that.'  And  Dr.  B. 
said,  '  Yes,  brother ;  and  you  shall  lead  the  charge,  when  the 
time  comes.' " 

The  cry  is  now  heard  all  over  perdition's  gloomy  empire — 
"  Volunteers  !  volunteers  for  Black  Swamp! " 

The  preacher  then  told  the  congregation,  that  the  fallen 
spirits  were  then  present  on  the  ground,  determined  on  their 
ruin ;  but  that  the  hosts  of  the  Lord  were  coming  to  their 
help ;  that  the  glorious  news  had  reached  heaven ;  that  the 
cry  too  was  heard  all  through  the  shining  throng  around 
the  throne  above ;  that  the  glorious  cry  was  heard  on  both 
sides  of  the  river  that  makes  glad  the  city  of  the  Lord — 
''  Volunteers !  volunteers  for  Black  Swamp  !  "  He  told  them 
that  the  blessed  angels  were  there,  with  crowds  of  their 
departed  friends — all  there  for  the  help  of  the  Lord  against 
the  mighty.  He  told  them,  that  the  contending  hosts  of 
heaven  and  hell  were  now  meeting  in  awful  combat  above 
and  around  them.  And  now  he  cried  out,  "  once  more  to  the 
charge,  dear  friends,  once  more." 

Then  Dr.  B.  gave  Brother  McPhail  the  sign,  and  the  war- 
worn veteran  passed  through  that  crowd,  with  the  dust  of  a 
thousand  fields  fought  and  won  upon  him,  singing  at  the  top 
of  his  trembling  voice,  as  he  clapped  his  hands  together — 

"  I  feel  the  work  reviving,  I  feel  the  work  reviving, 
Reviving  in  my  soul. 
0  1  brethren,  will  you  meet  me,  In  Canaan's  happy  land  ? "' 

And  hundreds  of  happy  souls  replied — 

*'•  By  the  grace  of  God,  we'll  meet  you,  In  Canaan's  happy  land.'* 

And  now,  the  Captain  could   keep   his   post   no   longer 
though  he  has  been  strongly  re-inforced  by  the  legions  of 
hell,  and  though  the  stern,  relentless  guards  of  the  pit  fough 
as  they  always  did  while  under  the  eye  of  their  dread  mon- 
arch.    The  Captain  left  his  post,  upheld  by  his  long  lance. 


82  STRAY    LEAVK8. 

apparently  soon  to  fall  from' more  wounds  spiritually,  than 
those  that  took  the  life  of  Home's  great  Ciesar.  Among  the 
mourners  at  the  altar  was  seen  the  famous  Colonel  of  the 
Beaufort  Eangei-s.  The  Strange  Preacher,  more  than  usually 
excited,  rushed  up,  and  waving  his  handkerchief,  cried  out 
aloud — •  Colonel,  I  receive  your  sword,  with  much  pleasure, 
in  the  name  of  my  Master,  Prince  Immanuel." 

Now,  farewell  to  Black  Swamp  camp-ground  and  the 
Union  church  !  If  I  see  them  no  more  on  earth,  I  hope  to 
remember  them  in  the  happy  land,  far,  far  awey. 


"  I  would  not  live  ahvay:  I  ask  not  to  stay. 
Where  storm  after  storm  rises  dark  o'er  the  way; 
The  few  lurid  mornings  that  dawn  on  us  here, 
Are  enough  for  life's  woes,  full  enough  for  its  cheer. 

'^  I  would  not  live  alway ;  no — welcome  the  tomb, 
Since  Jesus  hath  lain  there,  I  dread  not  its  gloom ; 
There  sweet  be  my  rest,  till  he  bids  me  arise, 
To  hail  him  in  triumph  descending  the  skies. 

*'  Vv'ho,  who  would  live  alway?  away  from  his  God, 
Away  from  yon  heaven — that  blissful  abode, 
Where  the  rivers  of  pleasure  flow  o'er  the  bright  plains' 
And  the  noontide  of  glory  eternally  reigns  : 

*'  Where  the  saints  of  all  ages  in  harmony  meet, 
Their  Saviour  and  brethren  transported  to  greet ; 
While  the  anthems  of  rapture  unceasingly  roll, 
And  the  smile  of  the  Lord  is  the  feast  of  the  soul." 


LEAF  THE  THIETEENTH. 

A    CAMP-MEETING    IN     THE    UP-COUNTRY,    FROM    AVHICH    I    FOUND 
OUT    SOMETHING    I    DID    NOT    KNOW    BEFORE, 

The  Strange  Preacher  started  for  a  camp-meeting  m  the 
up-countr}^,  in  an  old  sulky  of  happ^^  remembrance.  Did 
you,  my  friends,  ever  have  one  of  those  old-fashioned  sulkies, 
with  high  wheels,  and  a  high  seat,  from  which  you  would 
be  thrown  every  now  arid  then,  either  by  your  careless 
driving,  or  by  the  axle-tree  breaking  in  the  same  place  where 
it  had  been  mended  before  ?  But  your  old  horse  w^as  gentle, 
perhaps — and,  above  all,  Providence  was  kind  to  you— and 
thereby  you  missed  being  thrown  into  mud  or  water,  and 
were  never  dashed  against  a  tree.  Well,  friends,  I  once 
owned  such,  a  sulky,  in  which  I  travelled  for  many  years ; 
and  I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  I  thought  of  it.  If  I  did 
not  get  turned  over,  or  thrown  out,  once  in  every  three 
months,  I  w^ould  become  cast  down  and  depressed,  thinking 
something  dreadful  w^ould  happen  to  me  or  my  friends.  But 
as  death  at  last  separated  David  and  Jonathan,  so  time  and 
rough  roads  parted  the  parson  from  his  muchdoved  old 
sulky.  I  suspect  some  of  my  friends  at  times  wonder  why 
Brother  B.  does  not  come  up  to  their  houses,  singing,  as  he 
used  to  do — --^  I  have  listed  in  the  holy  war ; "  '-I  want  to 
live  a  Christian  here ;  I  want  to  die  a-shouting."  One  reason 
is,  I  miss  my  old  sulky  too  much.  If  some  of  my  kind  friends 
were  to  ask  me  what  they  must  do  for  me,  to  make  me  feel 
like  old  times,  I  would  say,  ^'  Please  give  me  an  old  sulky, 
with  an  axlfe-tree  that  has  been  broken  and  mended  in  the 
same  place  more  than  once,  with  high  wheels,  and  a  high 
seat,  and  a  horse  that  will  stop  quickly  and  stand  very  still 
when  I  have  been  dropped  or  turned  over." 

Well,  I  left  my  home,  my  much-loved  '-Mamre,"  as  I  called 
it,  in  the  famous  old  sulk}ii  I  was  in  fine  spirits,  for  I  was 
expecting  a  good  meeting,  though  I  was  on  my  way  to  a 
place  where  I  expected  to  see  but  few  persons  with  whom  I 
was  acquainted.     It  mattered  not,  for  I  had  become  accus- 


84  STRAY    LEAVES. 

tomed  to  such  thinc^s.  I  expected  to  see  Brother  Talley 
there,  who  first  licensed  me  to  preach,  and  who  was  so  kind 
to  me  as  to  wait  on  me  untit  I  got  over  my  fright  at  that 
(quarterly  meeting  at  Green  pond  ;  and  Brother  Crook,  who 
preached  his  best  sermon  at  Binnakers,  when  the  young 
Captain  of  the  Fish-pond  Company  struck  his  flag  and  came 
out  on  the  side  of  Prince  Immanuel.  I  went  on  in  fine 
spirits.  I  was  passing  along  a  good  road ;  the  woods  were 
quiet ;  and  more  than  one  old  large  forest  tree,  not  far  from 
the  road,  with  wide-spreading  limbs  and  green  leaves,  seemed 
to  say  to  me,  "You  had  better  stop,  and  bow  your  knee,  and 
pray  to  the  Holy  One  of  Israel,  for  a  blessed  time  at  camp- 
meeting,  and  to  take  care  of  the  loved  ones  at  Mamre ;  for 
you  will  soon  be  travelling  where  you  will  see  nothing  but 
straight  lanes,  and  large  open  fields  on  right  and  left."  So 
I  stopped,  and  prayed  to  the  Blessed  Hope  of  Israel,  and 
started  off  again,  and  travelled  for  miles,  seeingjiothing  but 
large  open  fields  on  both  sides,  till  I  began  to  sigh  for  the 
large  trees  with  their  friendly  shade,  and  the  murmuring 
brooks  with  their  little  waves  kissing  the  smooth  pebbles, 
and  for  the  singing  birds.  And  on  I  went,  until  I  came  once 
more  to  the  grand  old  woods,  and  I  passed  along  the  shady 
road ;  and  I  said  again  to  myself,  "  I  hope  the  owner  of  this 
land,  who  has  spared  these  time-honored  trees  so  long — be- 
neath whose  friendly  shade  some  brave  soldier  of  Sumter 
and  of  Marion  may  have  rested  for  a  while,  during  a  sultry 
summer's  day,  in  the  olden  days  of  Seventy-six,  and  dreamed 
as  he  slept  of  the  gentle  maid  of  the  Enorce  or  of  Lynch's 
Creek,  who  wept  as  she  thought  of  her  absent  lover — I  hope 
he  will  go  to  heaven  when  he  dies,  and  rest  in  that  happy 
land,  far,  far  awa3^" 

On  I  went,  still  travelling  through  the  grand  old  woods ; 
and  after  a  while,  I  said  again  to  myself,  '^  what  a  suitable 
place  to  preach  one  of  my  Old  Testament  sermons."  I  then 
looked  up  and  down  the  road,  and  seeing  no  one  in  sight,  I 
gave  out  the  text,  '-And  Moses  %aid  to  Hobab,  come  thou 
and  go  with  us,  for  we  Avill  do  thee  good,"  and  preached  a 
sermon,  with  the  old  forest  trees  for  my  congregation.  My 
old  horse  moved  along  slowly,  taking  his  own  time ;  some- 


'  DROPPED   IN   THE   ROAD.  85 

times  he  would  trot  along,  and  then  he  would  walk  slowly, 
and  then  again  he  would  stand  still.  I  had  got  nearly 
through  the  sermon,  having  more  than  once  asked  the 
church  to  pray  for  me,  and  my  horse  was  standing  still, 
with  his  head  turned  back,  and  I  said  to  myself,  "  I  hope  he 
is  listening  well  pleased  with  the  effort."  Then  he  moved 
slowly  off.  My  sermon  was  over,  and  I  turned  to  the  sin- 
ners— I  entreated,  I  implored  them,  to  give  their  hearts  to 
the  Lord,  and  come  up  to  the  altar  for  prayer.  I  gave  out 
the  hymn,  "  Come,  ye  sinners,  poor  and  needy,"  etc.,  and 
said,  I  hoped  the  mourners  would  come  up,  weeping  as  they 
came.  But  what  noise  is  that  ?  Nothing  but  my  old  sulky, 
which  had  broken  down  again — the  axle-tree  having  given 
way  in  the  same  old  place  where  it  had  often  broken  before. 
I  was  dropped  softl}^  in  the  road,  and  my  horse  stopped 
very  quick,  and  stood  very  still.  I  got  up,  and  returned 
thanks  to  the  Lord  for  my  deliverance ; '  and  after  a  delay  of 
some  hours  the  old  sulky  was  mended  again.  Myself  and 
horse  had  been  well  cared  for  ;  and  the  kind  Presbyterian 
brother,  near  whose  house  I  then  was,  and  who  fixed  me 
up,  would  take  no  pay. 

The  next  day  I  arrived  safely  at  the  camp-ground.  Bro- 
ther T.  was  not  there ;  but  Brother  C,  who  had  charge  of  the 
meeting,  was  the  first  to  meet  me — for  which  very  thing  I 
had  been  praying  on  my  way.  He  greeted  me  with  a  smile, 
and  a  shake  of  the  hand  which  went  to  my  heart.  I  was 
then  presented  to  others,  and  was  soon  made  to  feel  quite  at 
home  by  those  up-country  friends  of  our  Saviour  and  his 
church.  Did  you  ever  hear  Brother  C.  sing,  when  his  voice 
had  not  yet  failed  ?  Well,  so  he  preached,  and  prayed,  and 
sung ;  and  the  Strength  of  Israel  was  with  him.  "\Te  had  a 
well-behaved  and  respectable  congregation.  I  found  some  of 
the  old-time  Methodists  there,  who  did  not  care  what  the 
world  and  the  devil  thought — when  they  felt  like  shouting 
they  did  so.  Brother  C.  put  me  up  to  preach  more  than  he 
ought  to  have  done ;  but  >I  thought  perhaps  it  was  because  I 
was  a  stranger,  and  might  never  be  there  again ;  and  be- 
cause also  I  was  a  son  of  his  in  the  gospel.  1  preached 
three  times ;  but  I  do  not  remember  my  two  first  subjects. 


86  STRAY    LEAVES. 

1  tliouL^ht  I  was  i^cttiiiu;  on  ay  usual,  and  the  church  was 
})rayiMg  for  mo.  The  third  werinon  was  at  3  o'clock  on  Sun- 
day. I  wont  into  the  woods,  as  I  often  do,  to  ])ray  before  I 
tried  to  ])roach  ;  and  when  I  had  gone  where  I  thought  no 
one  but  the  Lord  would  see  me,  or  the  holy  angels,  or  the 
little  birds  which  were  singing  around  mo,  1  bowed  down, 
and  ])rayed  for  help,  that  God  would  bless  hiis  poor  servant, 
and  that  some  souls  might  be  converted — that  I  might  have 
8ome  sign  that  I  was  in  my  Master's  work.  My  text  was, 
'*  I  would  not  live  alway."  The  Lord  was  with  mc.  The 
llol}^  Spirit  was  abroad  in  the  congregation.  A  large  crowd 
of  mourners  came  up,  and  the  services  went  on  for  some 
time  after  preaching  was  over.  Many  were  converted.  Some 
of  the  brethren  professed  perfect  love.  A  preacher,  who  did 
not  believe  in  shouting,  was  completely  carried  away  hy  his 
feelings. 

The  meeting  was  over.  I  started  to  go  to  another  one 
still  further  up.  I  had  not  ridden  far,  l^efore  I  was  overtaken 
by  a  young  man,  with  a  message  from  Brother  C.  and  some 
of  the  chief  members,  requesting  me  to  come  back,  and  hold 
a  protracted  meeting  in  a  neighborhood  whore  they  thought 
much  good  might  be  done.  I  turned  back  ;  the  meeting  was 
renewed,  and  the  Lord  was  with  us  to  the  end. 

"But,"  says  some  one,  "you  have  not  yet  told  us  what  it 
was  you  learned  that  you  did  not  know  before."  What  I  am 
going  to  tell  you  now  I  did  not  know  for  several  years  after. 
Some  friends,  who  were  at  the  meeting,  afterwards  told  me, 
that  there  had  been  no  good  impression  made  by  my  first 
two  sermons,  but  quite  the  other  way — that  my  style  of 
preaching  was  so  different  from  Avhat  the  people  had  been 
used  to,  that  neither  saint  nor  sinner  wished  to  hear  me 
again.  After  my  first  sermon,  several  of  the  members  went 
to  Brother  C,  and  requested  him  not  to  put  me  up  any  more. 
Again,  after  my  second  sermon,  the  same  request  was  made ; 
and  durino^  the  intervals  of  service,  one  could  hear  both  Me- 
thodists  and  Baptists  sa^-^iug,  "  I  hope  that  Strange  Preacher 
will  not  be  put  ujj  again."  Now,  my  friends  who  have  known 
me  long,  know  full  well  that  if  I  had  heard  all  that,  I  could 
never  have  faced  that  congregation  any  more — that  I  w^ould 


HOW   THE   TIDE   WAS   TUKNED.  87 

have  struck  my  flag  at  once,  and  started  back  for  the  Wal- 
terboro  circuit.  I  was  told,  that  on  Sunday  evening,  after  I 
had  left  the  tent  for  the  woods,  the  principal  members  came 
to  Brother  C.  once  more,  and  asked  if  it  was  possible  I  was 
to  be  put  up  again ;  that  no  one  wanted  to  hear  me ;  that  I 
had  already  been  imposed  upon  them  enough ;  and  that 
there  was  no  preacher,  or  exhorter,  or  class-leader  that  they 
would  not  rather  see  in  the  pulpit  than  me ;  and  they  begged 
him  to  change  the  appQintment.  But  he  told  them  he  did 
not  have  the  heart  to  do  it,  that  I  was  then  in  the  woods  at 
prayer,  and  that  the  Lord  blessed  me  sometimes,  and  he 
was  hoping  for  the  best. 

Under  these  great  difficulties,  I  went  to  the  stand,  and 
preached  my  third  sermon,  and  with  God's  blessing  I  was 
able  to  turn  the  tide  of  feeling  for  the  first  time,  with  great 
power  bearing  everything  before  it.  After  this,  those  same 
persons  went  back  to  Brother  C,  and  told  him  they  were 
very  sorry  for  what  they  had  said,  and  that  their  minds  had 
undergone  a  complete  change :  that  I  must  be  brought  back 
and  the  meeting  4'enewed.  From  that  time,  1  have  learned 
that  I  get  along  better  after  the  people  become  accustomed 
to  my  ways  ;  and  that  I  ought  not  to  expect  much  when  1 
stand  before  a  congregation  for  the  first  time ;  and  that  I 
never  can  pray  too  often  to  the  Lord,  before  preaching. 


LEAF  THE  FOURTEENTi:. 

CENTRE'cAMP  (iUorNI),  north  CAROLINA,  AND  THE  LOW-COUNTRY 
dinner;  AND  HOW  THE '  CLASS-LEADER's  WIFE  WAS  CON- 
VICTED   AND    CONVERTED. 

The  time  had  come  when  I  was  to  take  another  ride  iii 
my  old  sulky.  Brother  James  Stacy  was  the  presiding 
elder — a  man  for  whom  I  always  had  the  hii^hest  respect. 
He  had  always  treated  me  with  much  kindness.  AYhen  I 
think  of  Brother  Stacy,  how  many  places  of  my  wandering 
life  rise  before  me!  Georgetow^n,  Marion,  Centre,  Gilbo 
Bcnnettsville,  Fayetteville,  Binnakers.  and  others.  Where  I 
have  heard  him  once,  I  Avish  it  had  been  many  tirhes.  I  do 
not  remember  the  names  of  many  of  the  other  preachers, 
but  I  know  Brother  Simmons  was  there. 

While  recalling  my  visit  to  Centre  camp-ground,  a  certain 
famous  low-country  dinner  on  Saturday  is  the  first  thing  I 
think  of  Let  me  make  a  confession,  and  throw  myself  on 
the  kindness  of  my  friends  in  the  upper  part  of  my  own  State 
and  North  Carolina.  Though  I  have  so  long  been  roaming 
to  and  fro,  I  have  never  lost  my  relish  for  a  good  low-country 
dinner.  When  I  first  began  to  rove,  though  eveiy  thing  was 
always  so  bountiful  on  the  tables  of  the  up-country,  yet  the 
low-country  style  of  cookery  w^as  very  often  missed  by  me. 
jS'ow  you  know,  w^hen  a  long-absent  and  much-loved  friend 
turns  up  unexpectedly,  the  pleasure  of  meeting  is  all  the 
greater,  if  not  looked  for.  So  it  was  with  the  Strange 
Preacher  on  that  memorable  occasion.  Now,  friends,  fancy 
you' see  the  parson  sitting  down  unexpectedly  to  a  fine  low- 
country  dinner.  I  will  not  tell  you  of  all  the  very  nice 
things  which  passed  in  due  order  before  us.  Suffice  it  to 
say,  I  enjoyed  myself  very  much  from  the  first  to  the  last, 
or  as  old  Horace  w^ould  say,  "  from  the  egg  to  the  apple." 
Brother  Stacy  had  told  me,  before  we  went  to  the  tent,  that 
he  wanted  me  to  preach  the  3  o'clock  sermon.  It  was  to  be 
my  first  efi'ort  there,  and  he  told  me  he  was  much  interested 
in  it.     He  said,  he  was  anxious   for   his   friend,  the  War 


THE   STRANGE   PREACHER   CONQUERED.  89 

Preacher,  to  swing  clear.  I  was  fully  convinced,  that  as  a 
general  rule,  a  preacher  must  not  eat  too  much,  if  he  has  to 
preach  soon  after.  When  thus  situated,  I  usually  refrained 
somewhat ;  and  if  it  was  left  to  me,  I  would  always  avoid 
preaching  after  dinner.  It  was  said  of  the  greatest  of  all 
the  Caesars,  that  he  "  came,  saw,  and  conquered."  But,  alas, 
for  the  Strange  Preacher!  he  came,  saw,  and  was  conquered. 
I  did  not  know  till  years  after,  how  the  presiding  elder 
trembled  when  he  saw  what  an  impression  even  the  sight  of 
that  dinner  had  made  on  me.  If  I  could  have  seen  the 
anxious  looks  he  cast  at  me  from  time  to  time,  I  might,  as 
I  thought  so  much^  of  him,  have  made  a  desperate  effort  to 
hold  in.  A  friend  present  told  me  long  after,  that  Brother 
S.  was  very  restless,  as  he  saw  how  much  I  enjoyed  that  fa- 
mous dinner — that,  as  the  good  things  on  the  parson's  plate, 
as  often  as  it  was  replenished,  disappeared  like  "foam  on 
the  river,"  he  every  now  and  then  would  touch  my  friend's 
hand,  or  press  his  foot ;  and  that  when  he  saw  the  Strange 
Preacher  swallow  down  his  second  large  tumbler  of  butter- 
milk, he  whispered  to  him  that  there  was  no  preaching  in 
Brother  B.,  and  dismissed  the  table  as  soon  as  possible.  We 
then  retired  to  the  preachers'  tent.  Brother  S.  remarked  to 
his  friend  that  there  was  no  preaching  in  Brother  B.,  after 
eating  such  a  dinner,  saying,  "  my  last  hope  left  me  when  I 
saw  him  drink  his  second  tumbler  of  buttermilk ;  it  is  all 
over  with  Brother  B. ;  I  wished  so  much  to  have  him  make 
a  good  impression  this  evening ;  but  there  is  no  hope  for  it 
now,  and  it  is  too  late  to  change  the  appointment."  I  did 
not  know  what  was  passing  in  his  mind ;  but  I  knew  that  I 
had  eaten  too  much — there  was  no  mistake  about  that.  I 
felt  dull  and  sleepy,  and  went  to  rest  a  little,  as  I  thought  it 
would  be  some  time  before  preaching.  I  did  not  know  for  a 
long  time  after,  how  anxiously  my  friends  watched  my  every 
movement.  My  much-resjoected  Brother  S.  drew  a  long  sigh, 
as  one  that  thought  his  last  lingering  hope  w^as  gone.  He 
w^hispered  to  his  friend,  "it  is  all  over  now,  there  is  no 
preaching  in  him ;  my  last  trust  was,  that  he  would  not  lie 
down,  but  keep  moving  about  slowly,  and  thus  at  last  be- 
come roused  up  a  little.  AVhat  a  pity ! "  The  Strange 
6 


90  STRAY    LEAVRS. 

Preacher  laid  down,  and  the  buttermilk  —  the  crowning 
oftonce — hojxan  its  work.  Old  Somniis  was  iroin^  to  lead 
rae  otr  a  willing;  captive.  I  do  not  think  liard  of  what  my 
friends  did  on  the  occasion,  though,  at  the  time,  it  was  very 
un])leasant  to  me.  When  they  remembered  how  the  War 
Preacher's  flag  had  often  waved  so  freely  on  many  stricken 
fields,  I  suppose  they  dreaded  very  much  the  expected  pas- 
sage of  arms  for  that  evening,  when  they  thought  that 
perhaps  the  slightest  touch  of  hostile  lance  would  throw 
him  from  his  gallant  steed  upon  a  dishonored  field.  Their 
next  effort  was  to  keep  me  from  falling  asleep.  When  they 
saw  I  Avas  going  to  drop  oif,  first  one  and  then  another 
would  come  up,  and  say,  or  do,  something  to  arouse  me.  I 
would  about  half  open  my  dull  heavy  eyes,  and  look  at  them 
with  a  vacant  glance,  and  then  close  them  again.  I  wished 
they  would  leave  me  alone  for  a  few  minutes;  but,  no,  they 
kept  it  up.  It  was  at  last  thought  that  the  influence  upon 
me  would  in  the  end  prove  too  strong  for  their  united  efl'orts, 
and  that  I  would  pass  off  into  a  deep,  profound  slumber, 
from  which  even  the  loud  sounding  horn  would  scarcely 
arouse  me.  Look  at  the  picture — there  lay  the  Eoving 
Preacher,  having  indulged  himself  too  much  at  that  famous 
low-country  dinner,  the  crowning  sin  of  which  was  the  two 
large  tumblers  of  buttermilk.  Between  us,  my  friends,  re- 
member that  what  I  am  now  going  to  tell  you,  is  in  confi- 
dence. As  a  last  resort,  the  friends  resolved  to  have  the 
horn  blown  about  a  half-hour  earlier  than  usual — that  some 
cold  water  should  be  brought  from  the  spring,  and  that  the 
parson  should  be  aroused  up  at  once,  and  persuaded  to  bathe 
his  face  and  head  well,  and  his  arms  up  to  the  elbow,  and  to 
open  his  eyes  in  the  cold  water.  I  tried  hard  to  go  to  sleep, 
but  they  would  not  let  me ;  I  was  nearly  gone,  and  if  I  had 
been  left  undisturbed  for  five  minutes,  I  would  perhaps  have 
been  dreaming  of  the  loved  ones  at  Mamre.  But  Brother  S. 
came  up  and  shook  me,  and  told  me  it  was  time  to  get  up — 
that  the  horn  was  blowing.  He  then  advised  me  to  try  the 
cold  water.  I  felt  a  little  relieved;  but  still  there  was  a 
heavy  influence  upon  me.  There  w^as  a  little  time  to  spare, 
so  I  stepped  into  the  woods,  and  offered  a  brief  prayer  to  the 


'^SOLOMON,    MY   SON."  91 

Strength  of  lerael  for  help.  Something  seemed  to  whisper 
to  me — perhaps  it  was  the  spirit  of  some  loved  preacher  gone 
to  glory,  it  might  have  been  Brother  Higgins  or  Brother 
McCall — "  Try,  '  Solomon,  my  son  ; '  and  make  the  ghost 
shake  his  gory  locks,  and  remember  the  casting  off  for  ever." 

We  went  to  the  stand ;  and  I  gave  out  for  my  text, 
David's  charge  to  Solomon  on  his  death-bed.  I  imagine,  if 
ever  there  was  a  time  that  strong,  urgent  prayer  was  offered 
up  for  me,  both  by  preachers  and  people,  that  was  the  time. 
I  doubt  very  much  if  Brother  Stacy  ever  thus  remembered  a 
preacher  before.  I  was  as  "  clay  in  the  hands  of  the  potter." 
The  set  time  had  come  to  favor  Zion.  The  Spirit  was  pre- 
sent, and  the  Lord's  word  did  not  return  unto  him  void.  I 
heard  afterwards,  that  Brother  S.  said,  ''Brother  B.  got 
through  much  better  than  I  expected,  although  he  had  en- 
joyed the  famous  dinner  so  much,  and  finished  off  with  the 
two  tumblers  of  buttermilk." 

I  have  never  forgotten  that  time ;  but  since  then  I  have 
tried  to  be  more  careful  when  similarly  situated.  •  The  meet- 
ing went  on,  Brothers  Stacy  and  Simmons  preaching  with 
the  Holy  Ghost  and  with  power.  Did  you  ever  hear  Bro- 
ther Stacy,  when  the  Spirit  was  present,  and  everything 
was  right  with  him?  That  was  the  way  it  was  with  him  at 
the  Centre  camp-meeting.  I  remember  well  what  a  glorious 
meeting  we  had  on  Saturday  night — time  of  immortal  re- 
membrance. I  think  Brother  Simmons  preached.  He  was 
clear,  impressive,  and  powerful ;  and  many  mourners  were  at 
the  altar.  The  church  was  seen,  "coming  out  of  the  wilder- 
ness, leaning  on  the  breast  of  her  beloved ;  fair  as  the  moon, 
bright  as  the  sun,  and  terrible  as  an  army  with  banners." 
Many  persons  went  through  the  crowd,  and  implored  their 
loved  friends  to  come  to  the  altar.  The  father  went  to  his 
son,  the  mother  to  her  daughter,  the  sister  to  her  brother, 
and  the  husband  to  his  wife — and  many  were  thus  per- 
suaded to  come 

There  was  a  class-leader  there,  who  had  very  recently 
married  his  second  wife.  He  seemed  to  love  her  very  de- 
votedly. She  was  beautiful,  and  fond  of  dress  and  display. 
He  went  to  her,  and  pressed  her  to  come  to  the  altar ;  and 


92  STRAY    LEAVES. 

ill  last  ])rcv:iilc(l  on  her  to  come.  She  went  ratlicr  reluc- 
tantly, and  (lid  not  knoel ;  but  sat  down  with  a  Irown  on  her 
face.  Her  husband  seemed  to  feel  deeply  for  her,  while  she 
remained  unmoved.  I  was  very  Hurry  for  him,  and  tho'ught 
I  would  talk  to  her ;  but  I  met  with  Buch  a  reception  that  1 
soon  left.  After  we  went  to  the  tent,  I  heard  the  preachers 
say,  they  wished  the  brother  had  not  gone  to  his  wife,  as 
they  were  afraid  it  did  more  harm  than  good.  I  felt  sorry 
ibr  him,  and  I  made  up  my  mind  to  pray  much  for  his  wife. 
Often,  when  at  such  places,  I  become  more  interested  in 
some  persons  more  than  others,  and  make  them  the  objects  of 
earnest  pra\'er ;  and  I  have  often  had  the  pleasure  of  know- 
ing, that  they  had  come  out  on  the  Lord's  side.  I  even  now 
recollect  many  such  instances.  At  the  11  o'clock  service  on 
Sunday,  the  right  man  w^as  in  the  right  place — Brother 
Stacy  w^as  well  prepared,  and  preached  a  finished  sermon 
to  a  large  and  attentive  congregation.  He  had  recovered 
from  his  fears  of  the  day  before,  and  told  the  Strange 
Preacher  that  he  wanted  him  ti^  try  the  3  o'clock  sermon 
again ;  and  I  determined  not  to  indulge  too  much,  and  I 
held  in  somewhat,  and  did  not  drink  any  buttermilk.  I 
retired  to  the  woods,  and  entreated  the  Lord  to  bless  my 
last  effort ;  I  prayed  that  the  class-leader's  wife  might  be 
convicted  and  happily  converted.  I  made  up  my  mind  to 
paint  a  picture,  at  the  close  of  the  sermon,  if  the  Lord  would 
help  me,  that  she  w^ouid  remember  for  j^ears. 

The  horn  blew  long  and  loud.  My  faith  w^as  strong,  my 
trust  in  God  firm.  I  had  hold  of  the  blessed  Eock.  Some 
of  my  much-loved  songs  were  sung,  and  my  hopes  were 
high.  The  subject  was,  the  resurrection  of  Lazarus ;  and 
for  the  introduction  I  read  the  greater  part  of  the  chapter. 
I  begged  the  Lord  to  grant  me,  "  the  thoughts  that  breathe, 
and  the  words  that  burn."  The  death-bed,  wdth  its  heavenly 
surroundings,  was  described ;  the  scene  at  the  grave  was 
dwelt  on ;  also  the  rising  from  the  grave.  I  then  told  the 
members  of  the  church,  I  wished  to  give  them  some  parting 
advice,  as  we  might  never  again  meet  in  this  vale  of  tears. 
I  told  them  not  to  count  too  strongly  on  their  relatives  and 
friends  coming  out  from  the  w^orld.  and  starting  for  heaven, 


THE   class-leader's   WIFE   CONVERTED.  93 

for  many  of  them  would  be  lost  for  ever ;  and  that  they 
would  be  sadly  disappomted  if  they  expected  to  meet  them 
in  heaven,  l^o  matter  how  much  they  loved  them  in  this 
world — in  eternity  they  would  have  to  bid  them  an  eternal 
farewell ;  that  we  would  be  saved  on  the  right  hand  of  the 
throne — they  thrust  down  to  hell ;  that  parents  must  not 
expect  to  see  all  their  children  in  glory.  I  told  them,  I 
knew  full  well  it  was  a  sad,  a  heart-breaking  thought,  to 
think  of  their  being  separated  in  all  eternity  from  those  we 
love  so  much  on  earth ;  hence  they  should  not  count  too 
strong  on  meeting  them  in  the  green  fields  of  Eden.  I 
begged  them  to  remember  what  I  was  going  to  say — to 
follow  my  advice,  should  they  never  see  me  again.  I  then 
told  them,  perhaps  it  was  best  not  to  say  any  thing  now  to 
those  of  their  friends  whom  they  thought  had  made  up  their 
minds  never  to  come  out  on  the  Lord's  side ;  but  to  try  to 
make  them  pass  pleasantly  through  life,  to  grant  them  every 
wish,  and  to  render  them  as  happy  in  this  world  as  possible, 
as  they  would  never  enjoy  the  happiness  of  heaven.  I  told 
the  father  thus  to  treat  his  wayward  son,  the  mother  her 
daughter  who  would  not  live  for  the  Lord,  the  sister  her 
brother,  the  wife  her  husband — and  thus  through  all  the 
relations  of  life.  The  Strange  Preacher  now  took  his  sharp- 
est arrow  from  the  quiver,  and  he  placed  it  to  the  string, 
and  drew  it  to  the  head.  It  was  for  the  class-leader's  wife. 
He  said  there  were  many  husbands  on  their  way  to  heaven, 
who  loved  their  wives  dearly,  but  there  was  no  hope  for 
them — they  would  be  lost  for  ever.  He  advised  such  a  hus- 
band to  love  his  wife,  if  possible,  more  than  ever — to  give 
her  a  heaven  below,  as  there  was  none  for  her  in  the  world 
to  which  she  was  hastening ;  to  try  to  grant  her  every  re- 
quest, and  to  anticipate  her  every  wish,  but  never  to  urge 
her  to  attend  church — that  he  must  gather  sweet  flowers  for 
her  all  through  life,  for  there  would  be  no  flowers  for  her  there 
— that  he  must  never  use  harsh  words  to  her,  nothing  but 
words  of  love — and  that  he  should  request  preachers  never 
to  speak  to  her  of  her  soul's  salvation  and  of  heaven — that 
he  must  be  careful  of  her  health,  to  try  to  save  her  from  the 
cold  of  winter,  and  the  heat  of  summer — that,  as  she  would 


94  STRAY    LEAVES. 

never  give  her  heart  to  the  Lord,  she  must  have  sweet 
flowers  to  walk  on,  on  her  way  to  hell. 

The  arrow  was  shot,  and  the  sermon  ended.  Mourners 
were  called  up,  and  among  the  many  who  came  was  the 
class-leader's  wife.  She  was  in  such  distress,  that  a  lady 
who  sat  near  her  told  me  afterwards,  she  expected  her  to  go 
into  convulsions ;  and  she  said,  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by 
those  around  her,  "  I  know  the  preacher  meant  me ;  but  I 
will  not  go  to  hell,  even  if  I  have  nothing  but  sweet  flowers 
to  walk  on."  Brother  McA.  seemed  ready  at  that  moment 
to  go  to  heaven  from  the  Centre  camp-ground,  when  he  saw 
his  much-loved  wife,  who  had  been  bowed  down  for  a  long 
time,  realize  the  forgiveness  of  her  sins.  I  fancy  I  see  her 
now,  with  happy  heart,  with  smiles  and  tears,  praising  the 
Lord,  going  among  the  ladies  at  the  altar,  and  begging  them 
to  give  their  hearts  to  their  Saviour.  The  rejoicing  class- 
leader  threw  his  arms  around  me,  and  said,  ^'  I  never  can 
forget  you,  no,  never;  for,  by  the  help  of  the  Lord,  you 
have  saved  my  wife." 

I  have  often  longed  to  see  my  friends  of  the  Centre  camp- 
ground ;  but  we  have  never  met  since.  May  we  meet  in 
heaven  to  part  no  more ! 

''  0  !  for  a  glance  of  heavenly  day, 
To  take  this  stubborn  heart  away  ; 
'And  thaw,  with  beams  of  love  divine, 
This  heart,  this  frozen  heart  of  mine. 

'*  The  rocks  can  rend;  the  earth  can  quake  ; 
The  seas  can  roar  ;  the  mountains  shake  ; 
Of  feeling  all  things  show  some  sign, 
But  this  unfeeling  heart  of  mine. 

'*  To  hear  the  sorrows  thou  hast  felt, 
0  Lord !  an  adamant  would  melt ; 
But  I  can  read  each  moving  line, 
And  nothing  moves  this  heart  of  mine. 

'^  But  something  yet  can  do  the  deed  ; 
And  that  blest  something  much  I  need  : 
Thy  Spirit  can  from  dross  refine, 
And  melt  and  change  this  heart  of  mine." 


LEAF  THE  FIFTEENTH. 

now    I    GOT    THE    NAMES    OF    "WAR   PREACHER"   AND    "WANDER- 
ING   ARAB." 

As  far  back  as  I  can  remember,  I  was  very  fond  of  reading 
of  wars — of  wars  by  land  and  sea.  I  was  anxious  to  learn 
all  I  could  of  heroes  and  warriors,  both  of  olden  and  modern 
times.  I  had  always  been  so  fond  of  such  reading,  that 
when  I  became  a  preacher,  I  was  disposed  to  treat  of  war- 
like scenes,  with  Avhich  the  Old  Testament  abounds.  And 
though  I  have  been  preaching  for  nearly  thirty  years,  this 
habit  still  clings  to  me — it  has  become,  as  it  were,  a  second 
nature. 

In  years  gone  by,  I  had  an  appointment  at  a  church  called 
Bethlehem,  near  a  Brother  Izlar — a  much  respected  friend 
of  mine.  Near  the  church,  I  passed  the  tents  of  several  tra- 
vellers, on  their  way  to  Florida  from  the  old  North  State, 
and  some  of  the  strangers  were  among  my  congregation.  I 
preached,  and  as  usual  indulged  in  some  warlike  pictures, 
though  not  as  much  as  I  had  on  other  occasions,  as  I  did  not 
think  the  subject  called  for  so  many.  It  was  Jer.  xiv.  8. 
During  the  sermon,  I  noticed  that  one  of  the  strangers  was 
very  attentive.  When  the  meeting  was  over,  I  was  intro- 
duced by  Brother  Izlar  to  them,  one  of  whom,  a  Brother 
Terry,  said  he  was  a  class-leader — I  think,  from  Anson  county. 
North  Carolina.  We  dined  w^th  Brother  I.  that  day,  and 
spent  several  pleasant  hours  together.  He  was  a  man  of 
intelligence  and  pleasing  manners.  He  was  going  to  look  at 
Florida ;  and,  if  pleased,  to  move  his  family  out  there,  which 
he  did,  and  after  some  years  died  there.  As  he  was  parting 
with  us,  he  said,  with  a  marked  expression  on  his  face,  "  you 
will  hear  from  me  again."  We  did  not  fully  understand  his 
meaning,  but  told  him  we  would  be  glad  to  do  so.  From 
Florida  he  wrote  several  letters  to  the  Southern  Christian 
Advocate,  describing  his  trip,  and  what  he  thought  of  the 
country.     This,  we  both  concluded,  was  what  he  meant  by 


96  STRAY    LEAVES. 

saying,  ''  you  will  hear  from  mc  again  ;"  but  avc  were  mis- 
taken ;  for,  when  he  returned  for  his  family,  he  published  in 
one  of  the  papers  of  Fayetteville,  a  description  of  the 
preacher  and  sermon  he  had  heard  near  Brother  Izlar's. 
I  never  saAV  it ;  but  some  of  my  friends  told  me,  that  in  his 
article  Brother  Terry  said,  he  thought,  "that  man  should  be 
termed  the  '  AVar  Preacher;'"  and  he  was  "surprised  the 
name  had  not  been  given  before ;  but  hoped  persons  would 
take  the  hint,  and  call  him  by  that  name."  So  several  per- 
sons began  to  call  me  the  "  War  Preacher." 

Some  months  after  this,  I  was  at  a  camp-meeting  in  North 
Carolina,  and  as  I  was  passing  over  the  ground  a  minister 
called  me  to  him.  There  was  a  stranger  with  him,  who,  he 
said,  had  read  Brother  Terry's  article,  and  wanted  an  intro- 
duction to  me.  He  then  introduced  me  in  due  form,  as  the 
"War  Preacher  from  the  Vralterboro  circuit."  This  was 
done  more  than  once  while  on  the  ground. 

I  had  not  paid  much  attention  to  it  up  to  that  time,  but 
began  to  think  more  about  it.  I  thought  if  the  friends  were 
determined  to  give  me  a  name,  I  would  much  prefer  another. 
When  I  got  home,  I  asked  some  of  my  friends  to  help  me ; 
and  told  them  I  would  rather  be  called  the  "  Walterboro 
Preacher,"  as  I  was  born  there.  So  we  started  an  opposition 
party,  who  called  me  by  the  latter  name.  I  more  than  once 
called  myself  by  it  in  the  pulpit.  We  tried  it  for  some  time, 
but  had  to  give  up  at  last.  One  of  our  preachers  once  told 
me  publicly,  in  the  congregation,  at  Broxton's  Bridge  camp- 
meeting,  that  I  might  as  well  let  them  have  their  own  way ; 
that  I  could  not  stop  them,  as  the  thing  had  then  gone  too 
far.  So  I  gave  up,  and  in  time  became  fond 'of  the  name  ;  yet 
there  are  some  persons  who  do  not  seem  to  like  that  name 
as  much  as  another  I  am  often  called  by — "the  Old  War- 
horse  ;"  but  I  do  not  fancy  that  name. 

Many  years  ago,  I  was  at  a  very  interesting  meeting  up 
the  country,  where  a  lady  of  intelligence  said  to  me,  she  did 
not  think  I  had  the  right  name  yet ;  that  as  I  wandered  about 
so  much,  she  thought  I  ought  to  be  called  the  "Wandering 
Arab ;"  and  thus  another  name  was  given  to  me.  Some 
months  after  this,  I  was  on  a  steam-boat,  with  many  preach- 


THE   OLD   NEGRO   WOMAX.  97 

ers  of  onr  church.  One  of  them  came  up  to  me,  and  said, 
there  was  some  excitement  on  board.  I  inquired  what  was 
the  matter.  He  said,  it  was  noised  abroad  among  the  ladies 
and  gentlemen,  that  the  AYandering  Arab  was  among  them. 

I  was  once  at  a  meeting  of  some  interest,  with  one  of  our 
preachers.  After  I  left,  he  wrote  several  verses,  descriptive 
of  the  Wandering  Arab,  and  the  subjects  on  which  he  had 
preached. 

Several  years  ago,  while  returning  home  with  some  friends, 
several  preachers  among  them,  from  a  camp-meeting  in  the 
up-countrj',  w^e  overtook  an  old  negro  woman,  who  seemed 
to  be  in  fine  spirits,  toiling  along  the  highway.  Some  of  the 
companj"  asked  her  where  she  had  been.  She  said,  she  was 
on  her  way  from  Goshen  Hill  camp-meeting,  and  that  she 
had  enjoyed  herself  very  much  there.  And  that  among 
other  things,  she  blessed  the  Lord  she  had  lived  to  hear 
('aptain  Bellinger  once  more.  So  it  seems  I  have  been  called 
by  many  names.  I  was  once  at  a  camp-meeting  in  the  up- 
country,  where  I  found  that  my  singularity,  and  the  differ- 
ent names  by  which  I  was  called,  made  me  an  object  of 
interest  to  some  persons,  who  followed  me  about  from  one 
part  of  the  ground  to  another.  One  morning,  quite  early,  a 
stranger  was  seen  sitting  down,  not  far  from  the  preachers' 
tent,  watching  the  door  close  by.  He  remained  there  some 
time.  Several  persons  asked  him  what  was  the  matter ;  if 
he  wished  anything.  He  said,  he  was  waiting  for  the  War 
Preacher  to  come  out ;  that  he  was  determined  to  follow 
him  when  he  went  to  breakfast,  as  he  wanted  to  see  all  he 
could  of  him.  Some  one  told  me  to  remain  in  as  loner  as  I 
could,  to  see  if  he  would  still  remain.  I  did  so,  and  he  kept  his 
post.  At  last,  I  came  out ;  he  stood  still  till  I  passed,  and 
then  followed  close  behind.  He  went  to  the  same  tent,  but 
did  not  eat  any  breakfast ;  he  only  sat  down  near  by,  and 
watched  me  all  the  time.    • 

Being  the  War  Preacher,  of  course  I  was  expected  to  have 
a  flag,  and  to  wave  it  sometimes.  I  must  of  course  have  a 
gallant  steed,  harnessed  for  the  battle ;  the  saddle  was  said 
to  be  a  Spanish  one,  high  before  and  behind.  I  was  once  at  a 
camp-meeting  in  the  lower  part  of  the  State ;  I  did  not  feel 


98  sTiiAY  lkavj:s. 

very  well,  but  had  to  preach  that  night.  Some  of  the  friendB 
wished  mo  to  make  a  succesHful  effort.  1  remarked,  play- 
fully, that  I  did  not  feel  as  if  I  could  even  mount  my  gallant 
steed,  much  lees  make  a  splendid  charge.  Several  remarks 
were  made ;  at  last  a  good  Baptist  brother  ^aid  he  was  so 
much  interested  in  having  me  mounted,  that  he  would  hold 
the  bridle  and  stirrup  for  me.  Before  preaching  that  night, 
some  one  overheard  two  young  ladies  talking.  One  asked 
the  other  if  she  was  going  to  the  stand.  "  O  !  yes  ;  I  would 
not  miss  it  for  the  world ;  for  I  understand  the  parson  is  to 
mount  his  war-horse,  and  I  must  be  there."  The  other  then 
asked,  how  would  she  like  to  ride  behind  him.  She  said  she 
would  like  very  much  to  do  so,  if  she  was  only  good  enough. 
The  horn  blew,  service  began,  the  singing  was  fine,  and  we 
had  a  large  attentive  congregation.  I  think  that  was  a  time 
when  the  supplications  of  the  church  prevailed ;  for  a  most 
glorious  outpouring  of  the  Spirit  was  granted  to  us.  I  told 
the  friends,  that  by  the  help  of  the  Lord,  and  the  prayers  of 
the  faithful,  and  the  aid  of  a  good  brother  present,  I  was  at 
last  mounted  on  my  gallant  steed ;  that  I  felt  him  pawing 
the  ground  ;  that  his  neck  was  clothed  with  thunder ;  that 
he  was  tossing  his  head  towards  the  heavens ;  and  that  my 
war  flag  was  waving  gloriously.  Many  mourners  came  up, 
several  were  happily  converted ;  and  we  had  an  old-time 
meeting.  Both  of  the  young  ladies  were  deeply  convicted, 
and  some  time  after  were  converted.  One  of  them  has  since 
died,  and  I  hope  went  to  heaven ;  the  other  I  had  the  plea- 
sure of  meeting  last  summer. 


LEAF  THE  SIXTEENTH. 

MY    FIRST    VISIT    TO    GULLY    CAMP    GROUND,    DARLINGTON 
DISTRICT. 

I  went  to  this  meeting  in  company  with  Brothers  Eichard- 
son,  Felder,  and  Smith.  It  was  just  after  we  had  had  some 
heav}^  rains,  and  had  some  difficulty  in  reaching  the  ground. 
The  meeting  had  been  going  on  for  some  time  when  we 
reached  it.  We  were  warmly  welcomed  by  Brother  Talley, 
the  presiding  elder  of  the  district — a  very  polished,  refined 
gentlem"an,  much  respected  by  all  who  know  him — one  of 
the  war-worn  veterans  of  our  church. 

This  camp-ground  was  a  famous  place,  where  large  crowds 
had  gathered  from  year  to  year,  and  where  much  good  had 
been  done.  I  found  the  presiding  elder  well  supported  by  a 
gallant  band  of  preachers,  good  men  and  true,  ready  and 
eager  to  join  battle  with  the  enemy,  who  were  strongly  en- 
trenched on  the  ground.  The  services  went  on,  with  some 
interest  manifested ;  but  not  so  much  as  you  sometimes  see 
at  such  places.  Brother  T.  and  his  staff  were  at  their  post, 
enduring  hardship  like  good  soldiers ;  and  the  battle  was 
hotly  contested  by  the  opposing  forces  of  light  and  darkness 
— sometimes  one  side,  and  then  the  other,  appearing  to  have 
the  advantage.  "  Each  adverse  host  was  gored  with  equal 
wounds."  Many  persons  were  there  to  do  and  get' good, 
who  were  deeply  interested  in  the  progress  of  the  meeting, 
and  whose  prayers  were  going  up  night  and  day  for  the  ex- 
tension of  the  Saviour's  kingdom ;  but  then,  again,  there 
were  many  careless,  indifferent  souls — some  of  them,  alas ! 
members  of  the  church — who  were  there,  apparently,  only 
to  enjoy  themselves  after  the  fashion  of  the  world — to  see 
and  be  seen,  to  come  to  the  stand  at  one  service,  and  then, 
if  they  felt  like  it,  to  stay  in  the  tents.  Others  were  there, 
far  gone  in  sin  and  transgression — open,  heaven-daring  sin- 
ners, who  were  "  madly  rushing  to  ruin  as  a  horse  in  battle." 
I  have  never  been  at  a  meetincj  with  Brother  Felder  where 


100  STRAY   l.EAVES. 

God's  work  Avas  not  frlorionsly  revived.  And  this  was  not 
to  be  an  excei)tion.  He  was  just  the  man  for  such  a  plaee — 
a  good  preacher,  a  <!;o()d  exhorter,  and  one  ol"  the  best  singers 
of  our  church;  who  j^-ayed  at  times  as  if  heaven  and  earth 
were  coming  togetlier ;  and  who  was  of  a  fine,  commanding 
appearance,  both  in  and  out  of  the  pulpit.  lie,  with  Bro- 
thers K.,  S.,  and  E.,  and  others  from  time  to  time,  threw 
himself  nobly  into  the  thickest  of  the  fight,  causing  the 
enemy,  more  than  once,  to  retreat  from  the  field,  with  the 
loss  of  many  prisoners.  During  the  intervals  of  preaching, 
interesting  services  were  held  in  some  of  the  tents,  and  those 
brothers  did  good  service  at  such  times.  "Whenever  I  heard 
Brother  F.  clapping  his  hands,  and  singing,  "  The  warfare  is 
over,"  or  "  I  want  my  friends  to  go  with  me,"  or  "  I  will  join 
the  army,  by  and  bye,"  I  knew  that  all  was  right,  and  that 
the  work  of  the  Lord  was  reviving. 

Brother  Talley,  the  hero  of  a  thousand  stricken  fields,  Avith 
the  marks  of  the  war  hemlet  on  his  brow,  and  his  keen  Dam- 
ascus blade  in  his  hand,  preached  the  10  o'clock  sermon  on 
Sunday.  The  crowd  was  large,  and  generalh^  respectful  and 
attentive.  After  awhile  the  work  became  more  serious,  as  the 
preacher  went  on  warming  with  the  heav^enly  fire  that  filled 
his  heart.  The  joys  of  heaven  were  described  to  the  listen- 
ing multitude.  More  than  one  "amen"  was  heard;  more 
than  one  "bless  the  Lord "  was  spoken  by  some  happy  heart ; 
and  there  was  a  strong,  deep  feeling  rising  in  the  congrega- 
tion. On  the  preacher  went,  increasing  in  strength  and 
and  power ;  now  he  paused,  only  for  a  little  v/hile ;  the 
church  looked,  and  listened,  and  prayed;  he  turned  to  the 
sinners  and  bore  down  on  them  with  all  his  might.  Some  of 
them  had  been  exposed  to  these  broadsides  before,  and  seemed 
to  dread  what  was  coming.  A  few  left  the  stand  and  has- 
tened to  the  tents ;  for  they  had  no  heart  to  face  the  fire. 
The  preacher  described  the  dread  judgment  day,  Avith  all  its 
sublim6  and  aAvfiil  surroundings.  The  King  Eternal  was 
seen  upon  his  dazzling  throne,  and  the  entire  world  was 
before  it ;  and  the  eternal  separation  took  place  ;  the  wicked 
on  the  left  received  their  final  sentence,  "depart  ye  cursed:" 
they  stood  on  the  battlements  of  glory  and  looked  on  the 


THE   CROWD   OF   REVELLERS.  101 

happy  throng  before  them  for  the  last  time ;  they  were 
driven  off;  they  sunk  down,  hopelessly  down,  till  they 
reached  the  dark  realms  of  ruin ;  they  were  forever  lost ;  it 
was  one  eternal  night  of  endless  misery  for  them ;  despair, 
the  black  vulture  of  hell,  flapped  her  wings  over  their  heads 
and  bade  them  hope  no  more ;  they  sunk  down  beneath  the 
awful  Avaves ;  they  were  lost  to  sight  for  hundreds  of  years. 
At  last  they  rose  again  on  some  distant  burning  wave  of 
damnation;  they  lifted  their  despairing  eyes  to  heaven;  they 
cried  out,  "  Watchman,  watchman,  what  of  the  night?  How 
long  must  we  remain  amidst  these  eternal  fires  ?"  The  watch- 
man replied,  ''Eternity;  Eternity."  They  now  sunk  down 
again,  lost  to  view  for  thousands  of  years ;  they  now  rose 
again  on  some  gloomy  billow ;  they  still  heard  the  hope  ex- 
pelling words,  "forever,  forever."  The  sermon  was  over, 
and  the  mourners  came  up  in  great  numbers ;  Christians  re- 
joiced, sinners  trembled.  The  kingdom  of  the  Lord  was 
greatly  advanced.  Brother  E.  looked  as  if  he  saw  the  green 
fields  on  the  other  side  of  the  flood.  Brother  F.  stood  erect 
and  clapped  his  hands  and  cried,  "  Glory !  glory !"  The  Strange 
Preacher  sprang  to  his  feet  and  shouted  out,  "Farewell, 
world,  I  am  bound  for  the  kingdom !" 

We  had  a  season  of  great  refreshing,  but  still  there  were 
many  who  stood  off,  who  would  not  give  their  hearts  to  the 
Lord.  There  were  many  ladies  and  gentlemen  there — in  the 
church  and  out  of  it — who  seemed  resolved  to  enjoy  them- 
selves, pleasantly,  as  they  thought.  In  the  intervals  of  ser- 
vice they  formed  in  groups  and  promenaded  the  ground. 
Sunday  afternoon  came,  and  it  was  nearly  time  for  the  three 
o'clock  sermon.  And  now  a  larger  number  of  promenaders 
than  had  yet  been  seen  had  met,  and  arm  locked  in  arm  were 
parading  all  over  the  camp-ground — before  the  stand — before 
the  preacher's  tent — every  where.  Many  were  now  hasten- 
ing from  all  sides  and  joining  them.  The  beauty,  the  talent, 
the  wealth  of  Sumter  and  Darlington  were  circling  round, 
and  still  round  throughout  the  ground,  laughing  and  talking. 
The  Strange  Preacher  Avas  very  sorry  to  see  that  sight ;  he 
had  to  preach  the  next  sermon.  He  would  be  glad  to  see 
that  gay  party  broken  up  and  dispersed ;  so  he  resolved  to 


102  STRAY    LEAVES. 

Bee  if  they  could  bo  prevailed  on  to  leave  off  that  circling 
round  and  round.  lie  gathered  a  cjroup  of  friends,  and  they 
began  to  sing  some  of  the  much  loved  songs  of  the  church. 
They  placed  themselves  where  the  party  would  pass  very 
near  to  them.  The  revellers  were  coming  nearer  and  still 
nearer;  and  the  singing  became  louder;  and  the  preacher 
was  in  hopes  that  the  gay  throng  would  pause — would  listen 
— that  some  few  of  them,  at  least,  would  come  over  to  his 
side.  But  alas!  no;  on  and  still  on  they  went,  round  and 
still  round.  The  singing  still  went  on — the  sweet  songs  of 
Zion.  The  revellers  were  coming  round  once  more — how  the 
Strange  Preacher's  heart  was  beating.  A  few  came  over  and 
joined  us,  but  the  crowd  still  continued  on.  The  horn  then 
blew  for  the  three  o'clock  service,  and  both  parties  w^ent  to 
the  place  of  worship.  The  Strange  Preacher  said  to  himself: 
"If  the  Lord  will  help  me.  I  will  paint  a  picture  for  those 
revellers  which  I  hope  some  of  them  will  never  forget." 
Brother  F,  sang  one  of  my  favorite  songs.  When  the  sermon 
was  nearly  over,  the  Strange  Preacher  told  the  congregation 
he  would  paint  a  picture  which  he  hoped  they  would  remem- 
ber for  a  long  time ;  that  there  was  a  time,  many  3'ears  ago, 
when  a  gay  party  met  near  the  water's  edge  for  a  sail  of 
pleasure  ;  that  the  sky  was  clear  and  the  water  smooth.  The 
ladies  and  gentlemen  seemed  in  gay  spirits,  but  their  friends 
who  followed  them  with  wistful  looks  were  very  uneasy,  for 
not  far  off  was  a  dangerous  whirlpool  where  many  noble 
ships  had  been  lost.  Every  effort  had  been  made  to  induce 
them  to  come  back,  but  all  in  vain.  They  smiled,  and  clapped 
their  hands,  and  laughed,  and  said  there  was  no  danger.  For 
awhile  all  was  bright — the  ocean  was  as  calm  as  a  lake  where 
no  breath  of  air  was  stirring.  Their  friends  on  the  shore 
still  implored  them  to  return ;  a  mother  with  tears  in  her 
eyes  entreated  her  daughter  to  come  back ;  the  father  his 
son,  the  brother  his  sister,  but  all  in  vain.  The  gay  party 
of  revellers  at  last  found  out  their  danger,  but  it  was  too 
late ;  they  implored  their  friends  to  save  them,  but  it  was 
too  late  now.  Their  friends  on  shore  closed  their  eyes,  as 
the  gay  party  sank  down  beneath  the  dark  waters,  never  to 
rise  till  that  great  and  awful  day.     The  preacher  then  told 


THE   REVELLERS    DISPERSED.  103 

them  of  that  gay  party  that  had  so  lately  been  there  sport- 
ing near  that  whirlpool  of  eternal  fire,  while  devils  looked  on 
and  rejoiced — while  the  holy  angels  almost  wept  as  they 
looked  on  from  the  portals  of  heaven.  He  told  them  how 
some  of  their  friends  had  tried,  by  singing  some  of  the  sweet 
songs  of  Zion,  to  draw  them  away  from  the  awful  danger  so 
near.  But  they  would  not  come  ;  though  every  exhortation 
they  refused  brought  them  still  nearer  the  gulf  of  perdition 
that  would  soon  swallow  them  up.  He  told  them  how 
grieved  their  pious  friends  at  home  would  be  when  they 
heard  how  they  had  been  sporting  at  the  Gully  camp-ground 
— that  soon,  very  soon,  they  would  find  out  their  danger,  but 
perhaps  when  it  was  too  late. 

Long  will  that  meeting  be  remembered  by  preacher  and 
people  ;  by  saints  and  sinners.  Again  and  again,  in  my  rov- 
ing life,  have  I  met  persons,  years  afterwards,  who  told  me 
that  they  were  in  that  ga}^  party  of  revellers  on  that  holy 
Sabbath  evening,  but  that  it  was  their  last.  Before  I  left 
the  ground  more  than  one  brother  in  Christ,  and  others  after- 
wards, told  me  they  thanked  me  from  their  hearts  for  that 
picture,  that  the  Holy  Spirit  had  blessed  the  efl'ort,  and  they 
believed  some  souls  were  saved  by  the  help  of  the  Lord. 


No  room  for  mirth  or  trifling  here, 
For  worldly  hope  or  wordly  fear, 

If  life  so  soon  is  gone  ; 
If  now  the  Judge  is  at  the  door, 
And  all  mankind  must  stand  before 

The  inexorable  throne. 

No  matter  which  my  thoughts  employ, 
A  moment's  misery  or  joy, 

But  oh !  when  both  shall  end. 
Where  shall  I  find  my  destined  place  ? 
Shall  I  my  everlasting  days 

With  fiends  or  angels  spend  ? 


♦ 


LEAF  THE  SEVENTEENTH. 

MY  FIRST  TO  PLEASANT  GROVE  CAMP  GROUND,  NORTH  CARO- 
LINA, WHERE  TV\'0  LONG  LETTERS  ON  CONTROVERSY  WERE 
ANSWERED. 

Many  years  ai^o,  I  received  a  long  letter  from  a  gentleman 
of  standing,  and  of  much  intelligence,  who  belonged  to  an- 
other church,  and  who  left  no  stone  unturned  in  trying  to 
persuade  me  to  enter  into  a  controversy  with  him.  The 
writer  expressed  a  strong  wish  to  break  a  lance  with  me, 
even  if  he  should  be  unhorsed — of  Vv^hich,  merely  to  flatter 
the  parson,  he  professed  there  might  be  some  danger.  He 
entered  at  length  into  some  of  the  disputed  points  be- 
tween us. 

Some  time  after,  I  received  another,  if  possible,  longer 
than  the  first,  with  a  request  endorsed,  that  it  should  be 
read  as  soon  as  received,  no  matter  what  I  might  be  doing, 
I  got  it  at  Binnakers  camp-ground,  when  my  mind  was 
filled  with  other  thoughts  ;  but  still  the  very  lengthy  letter 
was  read  at  once. 

Some  time  after  this,  I  attended  the  camp-meeting  at 
Pleasant  Grove,  with  Brother  M.,  whom  I  met  at  Camden. 
Of  all  the  camp  grounds  I  have  ever  been  to,  Pleasant  Grove 
ranks  next  to  the  famous  Rock  Springs.  I  saw  several 
thousands  of  strange  faces  before  me.  I  was  introduced  to 
many  persons,  and  received  a  great  man}"  invitations  of  a 
social  character.  I  looked,  and  gazed,  and  wondered  where 
all  these  people  came  from,  and  if  the  most  of  them  were  in 
the  church  or  not.  I  saw  much  less  of  fashion  and  display 
there,  than  I  have  seen  anywhere  else  in  all  my  roving  life. 
The  congregation,  though  large  at  first,  still  continued  to  in- 
crease as  the  meeting  progressed. 

If  I  remember  rightly,  the  meeting  was  a  good  one  from  be- 
ginning to  end.  The  prayers  at  the  tents  were  plain,  strong, 
and  fervent.  The  Strange  Preacher  missed  much  his  famous 
low-country  dinner ;  but  of  course  kept  his  thoughts  to  him- 


A    HOPELESS   CASE.  105 

self.  When  Brother  M.  preached,  he  was  the  right  man  in 
the  right  place.  Did  you  ever  hear  him  ?  You  say,  "  no." 
Then  there  is  a  great  treat  in  store  for  you,  I  hope.  Take 
my  advice,  and  embrace  the  first  chance  you  have.  When 
you  have  heard  him  once,  I  know  you  will  wish  to  do  so  as 
often  as  possible.  He  fired  off  one  of  his  "  biggest  guns," 
and  by  the  help  of  the  Spirit,  there  was  much  execution 
done — there  was  soon  a  fine  work  going  on  among  mourners, 
backsliders,  sinners.  Christians,  and  all.  After  the  Strange 
Preacher  left  the  stand,  where  he  had  enjoyed  himself  very 
much,  he  said  to  himself,  "  JSTow  is  the  best  time  I  will  ever 
have  to  answer  those  long  letters  on  controversy."  He  had 
a  notion  in  his  head,  that  he  could  do  it  after  such  a  fashion 
as  never  to  be  troubled  with  such  tremendous,  lengthy 
epistles  from  that  same  person  in  all  his  future  life.  So  the 
parson,  when  he  got  to  the  tent,  sat  down  to  reply  to  those 
lengthy  letters.  He  wrote  with  much  affection,  for  he  loved 
his  friend  dearly.  His  letter  was  dated,  "  Pleasant  G-rove 
Camp-ground,  Xorth  Carolina ;  Three  Hundred  and  Twenty- 
one  (321)  Tents  on  the  ground,  all  told."  He  said,  he  was 
then  enjoying  himself  very  much;  that  Brother  M.  had  just 
preached  one  of  his  best  sermons,  which  made  a  tremendous 
impression  on  the  congregation ;  that  he  had  thought  of  and 
prayed  often  on  the  subject,  and  had  at  last  come  to  the  con- 
clusion, that  it  would  do  no  good,  and  might  do  some  harm, 
for  them  to  controvert  the  points  of  difference  between  them  j 
that  he  had  no  thought  of  ever  changing  his  correspondent's 
mind ;  and  that  he  himself  expected  to  live  and  die  where  he 
then  was,  in  the  church  of  his  choice.  And  he  hoped,  if  the 
Lord  spared  his  life,  to  come  again  to  Pleasant  Grove,  where 
there  were  "three  hundred  and  twenty-one  tents  on  the 
ground,  all  told;  and  to  hear  Brother  M.  preach  another 
good  sermon." 

I  never  got  any  more  lengthy  epistles  from  the  same  per- 
son; but  understood,  some  months  afterwards,  that  the 
Doctor  said,  he  would  never  write  to  me  again  on  the  sub- 
ject, as  he  regarded  it  a  hopeless  case ;  for  the  last  time  he 
heard  from  the  parson,  he  was  at  Pleasant  Grove  camp- 
meeting,  North  Carolina,  three  hundred  and  twenty-one 
7 


lOG  STIJAY    I.EAVFiS. 

touts  on  the  p^round,  ull  told  ;  and  that  Brother  M.  had  just 
jireached  a  trenieiidous  sermon  ;  and  he  was  then  enjoying 
himself  very  niucli. 

T  liad  ahvady  tried  to  preach  ;  but  I  suspect  it  was  a  poor 
affair  when  com})ared  with  Brother  M.'s  sermon.  Ab  it  was 
my  tirst  visit  to  that  phvce,  it  took  me  some  time  to  get  used 
to  wliat  I  heard  and  saw  around  me.  ^My  voice,  not  strong 
at  best,  could  not  be  heard  by  that  vast  croAvd,  unless  T 
spoke  much  louder  than  usual.  1  was  again  called  on  to 
preach,  Brother  M.  cautioning  me  to  speak  much  louder ;  for 
it  was  thought  that  at  least  two  thousand  of  those  present 
before  had  not  heard  one  word  of  what  I  said ;  and  he 
wished  very  much  that  all  should  hear.  So  he  recommended 
a  plan  which  he  thought  would  answer — he  would  stand  on 
the  outer  edge  of  the  congregation,  and  if  he  could  not  hear, 
he  would  shake  his  head ;  and  if  otherwise,  he  would  nod  or 
smile.  The  hour  arrived,  and  a  vast  crowd  was  present — 
between  six  and  seven  thousand.  Brother  M.  was  among 
the  extreme  outsiders,  some  of  whom,  by  their  glances, 
seemed  to  say,  "  "What  are  you  doing  here  ?  Your  place  is 
in  the  altar."  I  began  to  read  the  hymn  ;  Brother  M.  shook 
his  head.  I  tried  to  elevate  m}'  voice  while  reading  the  first 
few  verses ;  but  he  continued  to  shake  his  head.  I  then 
made  a  still  greater  effort ;  he  smiled  and  nodded — all  was 
right.  After  prayer,  I  gave  out  the  second  hymn ;  he 
smiled  again.  I  then  began  my  sermon;  he  nodded,  and 
then  came  back  to  the  altar.  I  w^ent  on,  straining  my  voice 
very  much ;  but  was  heard  by  the  many  thousands.  The 
meeting  closed ;  and  as  well  as  I  can  remember  at  this  dis- 
tant day,  there  were  a  great  many  convictions  and  con- 
versions, and  several  scores  joined  the  church.  Brother 
Talley  told  me  before  we  left,  that  at  the  tent  in  which  he 
dined,  after  my  second  sermon,  a  brother  said  to  him,  "  We 
have  got  a  name  for  our  boy  at  last ;  for  though  he  is  several 
years  old,  we  could  not  heretofore  agree  about  a  name ;  but 
while  we  we  w^ere  coming  from  the  stand,  I  asked  my  wife 
how  she  would  like  to  call  him  after  the  Strange  Preacher ; 
and  she  replied,  that  she  could  not  be  better  pleased  ;"  and 
so  the  boy  w^as  named  Lucius  Bellinger  D . 


LEAF  THE  EIGHTEENTH. 

CAMP-MEETINGS    IN  GEORGIA. 

1  have  been  to  several  meetings  in  the  Empire  State  of  the 
vSouth  a  long  time  ago.  The  first  one  I  attended  I  think 
Avas  called,  Hill's  camp  ground,  in  Wilkes  county,  I  had 
a  letter  of  introduction  to  the  presiding  elder,  the  pres- 
ent Bishop  Pierce  ;  and  from  that  day  to  the  present  I  have 
felt  glad  that  I  formed  the  acquaintance  of  that  distinguished 
preacher.  I  had  heard  much  of  him  as  one  of  the  most  elo- 
quent ministers  of  our  church,  and  my  expectations,  high  as 
they  were,  were  fully  realized.  He  treated  me  with  much 
respect,  and  showed  me  every  attention,  which  made  me  feel 
quite  at  home  while  there.  It  has  been  so  many  years  since 
I  was  with  him  at  those  Georgia  meetings  that  many  things 
of  interest  have  been  forgotten — my  memory  being  my  only 
reference  book.  I  met  while  there  a  Brother  Martin,  a 
member  of  the  Conference,  and  a  man  of  winning  manners 
and  address.  He  made  a  favorable  impression  on  my  mind. 
I  also  had  the  pleasure  of  forming  the  acquaintance  of  a 
Brother  Duncan,  who  was  called  the  sweet  singer  of  Georgia, 
a  very  useful,  and  a  very  successful  minister.  There  was  also 
Dr.  Pendleton,  whose  health  would  not  permit  of  his  preach- 
ing often ;  but  who,  having  the  respect  and  confidence  of 
both  the  church  and  the  world,  did  much  good  in  pushing 
on  the  work  of  grace,  and  advancing  the  Saviour's  kingdom. 
I  am  very  happy  to  number  him  among  my  Georgia  friends. 
He  was  gentle  and  kind,  full  of  faith  and  hope,  and  love : 
always  ready  to  weep  with  those  who  wept,  and  to  rejoice 
with  those  who  rejoiced.  Brother  Pierce  was  the  great 
object  of  attraction,  but  still  he  would  have  all  to  do  their  full 
share  of  work.  Because  of  his  kindness  and  friendliness  I 
have  felt  more  at  home  with  him  than  with  any  other  of  our 
great  preachers,  without  exception,  whom  I  have  seen  in  my 
roving  life.  I  also  met  Brothers  Lewis  and  Branham,  both 
whole-souled,  devoted,  thorough-going  men  of  God,  and  much 


108  STllAV    LEAVES. 

loved  by  the  church.  They  are  brave  Hohlicrs  of*  the  cross — 
heroes  of  many  immortal  battle  fields.  All  hail  to  tlie  preach- 
ers of  the  Georgia  Conference  whom  I  then  met. 

The  next  meeting  I  attended  was  the  Hancock  camp- 
ground, near  Sparta.  Previous  to  my  visit  there  I  spent 
some  time  with  Bishop  Pierce,  at  his  home  near  by  that 
place,  and  was  kindly  treated  by  his  amiable  wife.  How 
pleasantly  the  hours  rolled  by !  Having  rested,  we  set  of!* 
again  to  endeavor  to  push  forward  the  victory  of  the  Cross, 
and  to  save  immortal  souls.  Dr.  P.  labored  here,  both  in  the 
pulpit  and  altar,  to  win  souls  for  the  Lord.  I  think  I  have 
never  heard  him  preach  without  losing  all  control  of  my  feel- 
ings, and  felt  like  shouting,  whether  the  devil,  or  the  world, 
or  lukewarm  Christians  were  pleased  or  not.  Each  time  I 
hoard  him  I  thought  the  last  sermon  better  than  the  pre- 
ceding one.  The  Holy  Spirit  was  wonderfully  poured  out. 
The  powers  of  hell  mustered  strong  for  the  battle,  filled  with 
rage  and  fury  ;  but  the  the  powers  of  light  rallied  to  the  sup- 
port of  the  Lord's  people,  and  the  camp  of  Israel  moved  on 
in  glorious  triumph,  from  one  service  to  another,  driving  the 
routed  foe  from  every  strong  post,  till  the  blessed  flag  of 
Calvary  waved  victoriously  over  the  entire  battle  field.  It 
did  not  matter  who  preached,  the  good  work  continued  to 
revive.  Many  mourners  crowded  the  altar,  and  many  were 
made  to  rejoice  in  their  Saviour's  love. 

There  was  a  respectable  gentleman  of  wealth  and  position 
on  the  ground — one  of  the  chief  men  of  the  county,  his  fam- 
ily all  members  of  the  church — in  whom  the  preachers  seemed 
deeply  interested ;  but  there  appeared  little  hope  of  his  ever 
beino-  convicted  and  converted.  He  had  a  son  who  was  then 
preaching,  and  who  afterwards  rose  to  a  high  position  in  the 
Conference.  His  eldest  son,  a  worthy  member  of  the  church, 
with  tears  in  his  eyes,  told  me  how  anxious  he  was  to  see 
his  much  loved  father  a  member  of  the  church — that  as  to 
his  morals  he  was  a  good  man,  and  did  everything  he  could 
to  add  to  the  happiness  of  his  family.  While  listening,  I 
became  much  affected,  and,  as  usual  with  me  in  such  a  case, 
began  to  praj^  for  him.  I  encouraged  the  young  man  not  to 
give  up,  but  to  pray  for  and  expect  his  father's  conversion. 


THE   YOUNG   SCOFFER.  109 

Brother  Pendleton,  I  think  it  was,  told  me  that  the  old  gen- 
tleman had  taken  quite  a  fancy  to  me,  and  that  he  thought  I 
could  influence  him,  if  I  would  go  out  and  speak  to  him  in 
the  congregation.  As  soon  as  they  would  begin  to  sing  he 
would  always  leave  the  stand,  and  when  I  was  going  toward 
him  he  would  start  for  the  tent.  I  said  to  myself,  "the  next 
service  I  will  be  in  time."  Dr.  Pierce  preached  the  next  ser- 
mon, and  we  had  a  glorious  season.  Before  singing  began  I 
started,  praying  as  I  went  for  the  old  gentleman,  and  when 
I  reached  him,  he  had  his  hat  in  his  hand,  just  ready  to  leave. 
I  begged  him  to  let  us  pray  for  him.  He  bowed  at  his  seat. 
How  his  children,  his  friends,  and  the  church  rejoiced!  He 
was  much  affected ;  his  heart  was  fully  reached ;  he  was 
made,  by  grace,  to  dread  the  wrath  to  come,  and  the  anger 
of  a  sin-avenging  God.  I  can  even  now  see  the  happy  smil-e 
on  the  face  of  his  eldest  son,  whei).  he  beheld  his  much  loved 
father  so  much  interested  in  his  soul's  salvation,  and  trying 
to  close  in  with  the  offers  of  mercy.  I  was  after  this,  at  the 
tent  of  Brother  S.,  and  he  asked  me  to  go  into  the  room  where 
his  father  was,  and  talk  to  him ;  and  I  went  in  and  prayed  for 
him.  My  faith  was  strong,  and  I  came  out  and  told  his  son  he 
would  soon  see  the  old  man  in  the  church. 

I  was  trying  to  preach  to  a  large  congregation,  and  hoped 
for  a  greater  revival.  When  about  half  through  my  sermon, 
I  saw  a  young  man  sitting  at  the  root  of  a  tree,  in  the  outer 
circle  of  the  congregation,  who  was  laughing  in  my  face ; 
and  whenever  I  looked  at  him  I  became  so  much  disturbed 
that  I  would  not  turn  that  way  some  time.  When  I  did  look 
again,  he  was  still  laughing.  It  sometimes  seems  to  me,  so 
to  speak,  that  my  faith  is  almost  dead — hardly  breathing — 
so  :Q^int,  so  weak  is  my  trust  in  my  blessed  Saviour,  at  such 
times,  that  it  might  be  said  that  a  child  of  the  Lord,  whose 
trust  is  firmly  fixed  on  the  blessed  Eock,  of  only  one  week 
old,  has  at  that  moment  a  stronger  faith  than  the  Strange 
Preacher.  I  feel  sorry  when  I  think  of  this,  but  so  it  is.  At 
times  I  remain  thus  for  several  days ;  but  after  awhile  my 
trust  in  the  Lord  begins  to  rise  by  slow  degrees,  and,  at 
some  times,  very  suddenly,  until  it  becomes  so  strong  that 
it  takes  firm  hold  on  the  horns  of  the  altar,  and  will  not  let 


110  STKAY    LEAVES. 

f^o  until  tho  request  is  granted,  and  tlie  desire  of  my  heart  is 
found.  I  have  often  thus  claimed  a  promise,  believing  it 
would  be  granted.  "According  to  thy  faith  so  be  it."  "All 
things  are  possible  to  him  that  believeth."  Is  not  this  the 
doctrine  taught  in  the  blessed  book?  I  have  often  prayed 
to  the  Lord  that  some  particular  persons  might  embrace  the 
faith,  and  several  times  the  request  has  been  granted.*  The 
young  man  still  kept  on  laughing.  At  last  I  stopped  and 
pointed  him  out  to  the  congregation,  and  thus  addressed 
him:  "Young  man,  you  have  been  disturbing  me  very 
much ;  mark  what  I  sa}^  to  you.  You  are  laughing  now  ; 
but,  with  the  help  of  the  Lord,  I  am  going  to  have  you  in 
the  altar  begging  for  mercy.  Before  the  services  end  you 
will  be  here  on  your  knees.  Stay  away  if  you  can  ;  remem- 
l)er — forewarned,  forearmed."  I  called  on  the  church  to  help 
by  their  prayer.  I  suspect  the  crowd  thought  there  ivas  a 
a  strange  preacher  before  them,  surely.  Perhaps  there  were 
few  Methodists  present  who  believed  those  words  would 
come  to  pass,  but  the  preacher  did.  And  if  he  had  never 
found  it  out  before,  he  would  have  gone  to  the  judgment  seat 
believing  it  would  be  made  known,  that  he  had  spoken  the 
truth. 

I  preached  on  with  my  faith  firmly  fixed  .on  the  strength 
of  Israel — the  Jehovah  of  Abraham,  of  Isaac  and  of  Jacob. 
The  power  of  the  Highest  descended  upon  the  congregation. 
The  shout  of  a  king  was  heard  in  the  camp  of  Israel.  The 
banner  of  redemption  w^aved  gloriously  over  the  host  of  the 
Lord.  When  singing  began,  mourners  came  up  in  great 
crowds,  and  the  shouts  of  the  Lord's  people  rang  out,  and 
the  cries  of  the  weeping  penitents  were  heard  all  around. 
My  soul  exulted  in  the  Lord,  my  Strength  and  my  Eedeemer. 
Many  were  happily  converted,  and  the  entire  congregation 
seemed  under  the  influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit.     Prayer  after 


*I  was  once  at  a  meeting  in  Sumter  District,  South  Carolina,  where  a 
j'oung  man  was  acting  very  much  like  the  one  above.  I  stopped  and 
pointed  him  out,  and  called  on  the  preachers  to  witness  what  I  said.  I 
told  them  that  same  young  man  would,  in  a  few  weeks  at  most,  come  and 
ask  an  interest  in  their  prayers — that  my  faith  was  strong  enough  to  be. 
lieve  it.     In  the  course  of  the  day  he  came  up  to  the  altar. 


A    GREAT    FIRE   BURNING.  Ill 

prayer  was  offered  np ;  one  holy  song  followed  another  up 
the  hills  of  heaven,  and  entered  into  the  presence  of  the 
Eternal.  The  preachers,  exhorters,  and  leaders  were  at  work 
everywhere — all  w^ere  at  work  at  their  post,  helping  on  the 
cause  of  their  Master,  comforting,  exhorting  and  encouraging. 
On  and  still  on  the  army  of  Prince  Immanuel  pressed  the 
routed  foe ;  hell  was  flying ;  heaven  was  pursuing ;  angels 
were  rejoicing,  while  devils  were  howling  for  the  loss  of  their 
victims.  Preachers  were  clapping  their  hands  and  shouting; 
pious  sisters  were  rejoicing  with  young  ladies  lately  con- 
verted, who  were  telling  them  what  the  Lord  had  done  for 
them  in  the  forgiveness  of  their  sins.  Hardened  sinners  had 
been  subdued,  and  were  coming  to  the  altar,  or  bowing  at 
their  seats.  Many  young  converts  were  passing  through  the 
throng,  hunting  their  friends  and  bringing  them  to  the  Lord. 
On,  and  still  on,  went  the  blessed  meeting.  The  Strange 
Preacher  was  seen  every  where,  as  many  of  his  friends  on  the 
old  AValterboro  circuit  have  often  seen  him.  IS^ow  he  was 
shaking  hands,  and  then  talking  to  the  mourners;  now^ 
kneeling  before  sinners,  begging  them  to  give  their  hearts  to 
the  Lord,  and  now  passing  through  the  crowd,  clapping  his 
hands,  and  calling  out  aloud,  "  Farewell  world,  I  am  bound 
for  the  kingdom."  Now  he  was  at  the  outskirts  of  the  congre- 
gation, praying  for  some  whom  he  found  bowed  at  their 
seats,  and  now  coming  back  to  the  altar,  saying — 

"  I  want  to  live  a  Christian  here, 
I  want  to  die  a  shouting, 
I  want  to  see  bright  angels  stand, 
And  waiting  to  receive  me, 
To  bear  my  soul  to  Canaan's  land. 

On  went  the  holy  work,  and  among  the  many  who  found 
their  Saviour  was  a  young  brother  of  Dr.  Pierce,  who  after- 
wards became  a  member  of  the  Georgia  Conference.  The 
night  was  passing  away,  but  still  the  meeting  was  kept  up ; 
the 'mourners  were  so  many,  that  it  was  difficult  to  pass 
among  them.  The  preachers  still  continued  in  their  holy 
work;  sinners  were  still  being  convicted.  At  last,  one  of 
the  preachers  said  to  me,  that  one  of  the  young  men  at  the 


112  STKAY    T.EAVES. 

altar  wanted  to  sec  mo.  Tlie  crowd  was  so  ^rcat,  it  was 
some  time  before  we  got  there.  There  was  a  young  man, 
lying  on  his  back,  clapping  his  hands  and  shQuting,  happy  in 
his  Saviour's  love.  He  was  in  a  constant  motion.  "  Mr. 
Bellinger,"  said  he,  "  I  want  to  see  you.  I  am  the  same 
young  man  who  was  seated  at  the  tree,  whom  you  said  you 
would  have  at  the  altar  before  the  services  closed.  I  did  not 
then  believe  it  would  be  so  ;  but  you  have  got  me  here  now  ; 
and  I'm  glad  that  I  came."  lie  then  took  me  by  the  hand, 
pulled  me  down,  and  threw  his  arms  around  my  neck.  O, 
how  we  rejoiced  together !  I  think  it  was  Brother  Pierce 
who  said  to  me,  with  a  smile  I  can  never  forget,  "  That  will 
be  something,  Brother  B.,  for  you  to  tell  your  friends  when 
you  go  home."  O,  my  blessed  Saviour !  even  now,  at  this 
hour,  I  thank  thee,  as  I  have  often  done  before,  for  the 
happy  moment  that  proved  the  truth  of  w^hat  thy  humble 
servant  had  proclaimed.  O,  glory  to  the  Lord !  that  I  once, 
in  my  roving  life,  was  at  the  Hancock  camp-ground,  and 
enjoyed  myself  so  much,  and  was  treated  so  kindly  by  the 
friends  I  found  there.  I  have  always  regarded  it  as  one  of 
the  best  meetings  I  have  ever  attended ;  and  I  hope  I  will 
never  forget  those  olden  days  of  immortal  remembrance. 

One  day,  Br.  Pierce  said,  he  wanted  me  to  preach  at  such 
an  hour ;  and  that  he  had  something  to  tell  me,  w^hich  he 
thought  I  ought  to  know.  He  then  told  me,  there  were 
several  young  ladies  and  gentlemen,  from  a  certain  town  in 
the  State,  who  had  been  making  sport  of  me ;  and  who  pro- 
fessed to  be  much  amused  at  my  singular  manner  of  preach- 
ing. They  said  I  made  them  laugh  every  now  and  then  ; 
that  I  would  sometimes  repeat  a  beautiful  piece  of  poetry, 
which  they  enjoyed  very  much ;  but  they  said  they  could 
not  hear  all  the  words,  so  they  were  going  to  come  near  the 
altar  the  next  time,  that  they  might  hear  every  word — they 
expected  to  be  much  amused.  He  told  me,  the  preachers 
would  pray  for  me ;  and  he  hoped  these  hard  hearts  might 
be  reached.  Brother  Pendleton  told  me  the  same  thing.  I 
went  to  the  woods,  to  implore  divine  aid,  and  to  pray 
earnestly  for  those  particular  persons.  I  have  known  for  a 
long  time,  that  many  persons  seem  to  be  much  amused  at 


THE    PARTY   OF    FASHIONABLES.  113 

my  manner,  and  say  they  cannot  help  laughing  at  me.  I 
know  I  have  a  very  singular  manner ;  but  it  is  all  natural 
with  me — nothing  forced,  nothing  borrowed.  I  never  say  a 
word  with  the  wish  that  people  should  laugh ;  and  I  must 
confess,  that  I  am  at  times  much  surprised  to  see  them  thus 
affected.  I  feel  thankful  to  the  Lord,  that  I  have  sometimes 
seen  those  who  had  been  thus  excited  to  mirth,  afterwards 
weeping  as  if  some  loved  one  had  gone. 

The  hour  of  trial,  of  hope,  and  of  fear  to  the  preacher  had 
come.  The  service  began  ;  and  the  persons  alluded  to  were 
present,  sitting  very  near  the  altar.  The  parson  was  aware 
of  their  presence — a  hint  had  been  given  to  him.  He  looked 
at  them ;  every  face  seemed  to  say,  "  We  are  expecting  quite 
a  farce;  we  will  be  much  amused."  He  gave  out  his  text, 
and  began  to  preach ;    and  then  looked  towards  the  gay 

group  from  the  town  of  W .    The  gentlemen  were  smiling, 

and  looked  as  if  they  expected  to  laugh  soon ;  and  the  ladies 
had  their  fans  to  their  faces,  and  were  evidently  much  amused. 
The  preacher  went  on  after  his  own  fashion,  and  asked  the 
prayers  of  the  church — not  looking  at  them  again  for  some 
time.  After  a  while,  he  ventured  to  turn  his  eyes  that  way 
again.  The  same  expression  was  still  on  each  face,  and  it  re- 
minded him  of  persons  in  a  theatre,  who  were  enjoying  very 
much  what  was  passing  before  them.  The  preacher  was 
quite  disturbed,  but  went  on,  hoping  the  Lord  would  be 
w^ith  him ;  and  he  trusted  that  many  were  praying  for  him. 
He  became  much  encouraged — giving  his  fears  to  the  wind, 
and  unfurling  his  flag  fearlessly,  and  looking  iiloft  to  the 
hills  from  whence  his  help  came.  He  then  turned  once 
more  to  that  fashionable  party,  and  had  much  cause  for 
gratitude;  for  a  great  change  had  come  over  that  group. 
He  now  saw  grave,  serious  persons  before  him,  who  were 
listening  very  respectfully.  There  was  one  face  more  serious 
than  the  others ;  and  he  hoped  tears  would  soon  be  seen 
falling  from  those  lovely  eyes.  Becoming  still  more  en- 
couraged, he  went  on  with  his  sermon,  at  the  close  of  which 
many  mourners  came  to  the  altar ;  and  among  the  young 
ladies  bowed  humbly  before  the  Lord,  was  one  who  belonged 
to  that  laughing  group,  which  had  anticipated  so  much  fun 


114  STRAY    I.EAVKS. 

mIumi  tliov  eamc  so  near  as  not  to  lose  a  word.  If  the  whole 
truth  wa^  known,  I  suspect  that  part}'  of  iiishionables  from 

AV ,  felt  that  a  great  change  had  come  over  the  spirit  of 

their  dream.  If  the  tempter  had  known  what  was  going  to 
}ia])peii,  he  would  have  ])ersuaded  them,  if  possiljle,  not  to 
go  so  near  the  altar.  J  would  not  be  surprised  if  some  of 
them,  if  yet  alive,  still  remember  that  scene.  That  young 
lady  was  so  much  affected  that  she  could  not  walk  alone  ; 
but  had  to  be  assisted  to  one  of  the  tents. 

During  the  evening,  I  was  at  Brother  8.'s  tent,  to  wliich 
that  young  lady  had  been  taken ;  and  there  she  was  after- 
wards happily  converted.  That  hay^py  young  convert  had 
come  with  an  aunt,  who  professed  to  be  much  hurt  at  what 
had  happened.  She  was  very  angry  with  her  neice  for  having 
gone  to  that  Methodist  altar,  and  knelt  down  to  be  prayed 
lor  on  the  straw.  It  was  too  bad  ;  and  she  regretted  having 
come.  She  resolved  to  carry  her  neice  home  at  once  ;  for  it 
Avas  mortifying  to  think  she  was  convicted  among  those 
shouting  ]\Iethodists.  And  then,  the  greatest  offence  of  all 
was,  that  she  went  to  the  altar  after  that  singular  preacher 
had  called  up  mourners — the  very  man,  too,  of  whom  they  had 
made  such  sport !  It  was  too  bad  !  The  party  left.  The 
aunt  took  her  neice  away;  but  not  till  she  Avas  made  happy 
in  her  Saviour's  love,  and  rejoiced  in  the  hope  of  heaven. 

The  glorious  meeting  still  went  on ;  and  Brother  S.,  at 
last,  had  his  long-pray ed-for  wish  granted — his  father  be- 
came a  member  of  the  church  ;  but  he  had  not  yet  found  his 
Saviour  in  the  forgiveness  of  his  sins,  though  he  was  deeply 
in  earnest  resolved  to  seek  him  to  the  last. 

Some  distressing  news  Avas  brought  by  some  persons  re- 
turning to  night-meeting,  from  the  party  Avho  had  left  for 

AV .     It  seems,  that  after  the  aunt  left  Avith  her  neice, 

she  began  to  scold  and  abuse  her  for  Avhat  had  happened; 
and  said,  she  Avas  so  enraged,  that  she  never  expected  to  for- 
get it.  The  3'oung  lady  took  it  all  very  mildly ;  but  the 
aunt  finally  became  so  angry,  that  she  requested  some  of 
the  party  to  let  her  neice  ride  Avith  them.  The  exchange 
Avas  made,  and  the  aunt  rode  on  alone;  when,  soon  after, 
her  horses  took  fright  and  ran  off.    The  carriage  was  broken, 


A    HAPPY    DELIVERANCE.  115 

and  she  was  thrown  out,  and  so  hurt  as  to  be  insensible. 
8ome  -persons  passing  by,  saw  her  friends  trying  to  restore 
her,  and  were  told  how  it  had  happened.  What  sad  news ! 
What  a  happy  deliverance  to  the  happy  young  convert ! 
Surely  the  Lord  watcheth  over  his  childre^. 

The  blessed  meeting  was  closed  at  the  camp-ground,  to  be 
continued  at  Sparta.  I  went  home  with  Brother  S.'s  father, 
to  stay  a  day  or  so  with  him,  and  then  go  to  another  meet- 
ing, at  Dr.  Pierce's  request.  The  old  gentleman  was  much 
distressed.  I  prayed  for,  and  tried  to  encourage,  him  ;  but 
he  seemed  to  fear  that  his  day  of  grace  was  gone  for  ever ; 
and  he  told  me  he  thought  he  had  committed  the  unpardon- 
able sin.  I  was  very  sorry  for  him ;  but  told  him  I  expected, 
after  I  left,  to  hear  he  had  found  the  Lord.  We  were  sitting 
at  dinner,  when  he  got  up  in  great  agony  of  mind,  and  went 
weeping  into  another  room.  After  praying  with  him  again, 
and  telling  him  I  exjDected  soon  to  hear  he  had  found  the 
pearl  of  great  price,  I  left  him,  and  went  on  my  way.  On 
Monday,  Dr.  P.  came  down,  and  told  me  they  had  had  glo- 
rious times  in  Sparta ;  and  that  the  old  gentleman  had  been 
powerfully  converted  in  love-feast,  on  Sunday,  and  had  re- 
quested him  to  tell  me  the  good  news.  To  the  Lord  alone 
be  all  the  glory. 


LEAF  THE  NINETEENTH. 

MEETINGS  AT  OLD  SPRINOTOWN  ;  OR,  THE  TREACHER  WHO, 
WHILE  WORKING  TOR  OTHERS,  ENJOYED  HIMSELF  VERY 
MUCH. 

Perhaps  more  than  sixty  years  ago,  there  w^as  a  famous 
place  of  summer  resort  for  many  families  from  the  low- 
country,  a  few  miles  from  Odum's  bridge  on  the  Salka- 
hatchie,  called  Springtown,  which  I  suppose  gave  name  to 
the  surrounding  neighborhood,  and  to  a  church  of  our 
Baptist  brethren,  with  which  my  first  recollections  of  the 
preaching  of  the  gospel  are  connected.  It  is  the  most 
beautiful  place  for  a  church,  that  I  now  remember  ever 
having  seen.  The  thoughts  of  my  boyhood  were  asso- 
ciated with  Springtown ;  and  now,  in  the  decline  of  life, 
they  still  linger  around  the  old  place.  I  went  there  oftener 
than  anywhere  else,  until  I  left  the  camps  of  sin,  and  started 
for  a  better  world.  All  hail!  to  the  old  church,  and  the 
happy  hours  I  spent  there  in  the  olden  time.  For  years,  I 
generally  fastened  my  horse  to  the  same  tree ;  and  often  sat 
on  the  same  bench,  near  one  of  the  posts  behind  which  I 
would  hide  my  face  w^hen  I  did  not  wish  the  preacher  to 
see  me. 

I  remember  the  Eev.  Mr.  Duncan  well.  I  see  him  now, 
as  I  used  to  see  him  more  than  forty  years  ago.  I  some- 
times found  his  eyes  fastened  on  me  with  a  marked  expres- 
sion. I  have  more  than  once  got  behind  that  post,  while  he, 
with  earnest  voice,  was  entreating  sinners  to  flee  the  wrath 
to  come.  It  was  Brother  Duncan,  who  more  than  once,  as 
I  have  elsewhere  mentioned,  said  he  believed  I  would  have 
to  preach,  and  that  he  would  live  to  hear  me.  And  so  it 
came  to  pass ;  though  I  had  been  preaching  many  years 
before  he  heard  me.  He  asked  me,  with  strong  emotion,  if 
I  had  forgotten  what  he  used  to  tell  me  ?  AYith  tears  almost 
falling  from  my  eyes,  I  told  him  I  had  not. 

In  the  olden  days,  Springtown  was  a  famous  place  for  a 


WHO   WERE   TO   BE   FOUND   THERE.  117 

largo  turn-out,  and  many  came  there  from  a  distance.  All 
classes  met  there,  from  the  diiferent  ranks  of  society  in 
Barnwell  District.  The  grave,  the  sedate,  and  the  pious  were 
there ;  those  who  were  seeking  the  salvation  of  their  souls, 
who  were  wounded  by  the  shafts  of  the  Spirit,  and  who 
were  mourning  the  love  of  the  Lord  to  know,  were  there ; 
those  who  had  once  tasted  that  the  Lord  was  precious,  who 
had  been  valiant  for  the  truth,  who  had  endured  hardness 
as  good  soldiers  of  the  cross,  who  ran  well  for  a  while,  but, 
alas!  had  now  gone  back  to  the  world,  and  the  brethren 
with  sorrow  of  heart  had  dismissed  them  from  their  commu- 
nion, were  there — some  of  them  were  trying  to  find  again 
the  good  old  paths,  that  they  might  walk  in  them  to  the 
joy  of  their  hearts ;  others  of  them  were  even  more  careless, 
more  hardened  in  sin  than  ever  before.  Gray,  careless, 
wicked  young  men  were  there,  w^ho  made  sport  of  holy 
things,  and  said  plainly,  by  their  actions,  "  as  for  the  man, 
Christ  Jesus,  he  shall  not  rule  over  us."  Beautiful  ladies 
were  there,  who  loved  the  fashions  and  pleasures  of  this  life 
much  more  than  they  did  the  blessed  Saviour  of  the  world 
and  his  church.  Some  were  there,  who  with  care  read  the 
holy  Book  by  day  and  night,  and  who  prized  it  far  above 
all  the  books  of  this  world ;  while  others  were  there  who 
scarcely  ever  opened  the  holy  Bible,  had  no  desire  to  read 
its  inspired  pages,  and  who  professed  not  to  believe  its  sacred 
truths.  Children  of  poverty  and  sorrow  were  there,  whose 
parents  were  compelled  to  labor  for  their  daily  bread.  Boys 
and  girls  were  there,  living  in  the  enjoyment  of  every  earthly 
blessing,  having  no  wish  ungratified.  Husbands  and  wives 
were  there,  who  were  living  happy  in  the  possession  of  wed- 
ded love,  which,  we  are  told,  "  is  the  only  bliss  that  escaped 
the  fall."  Husbands  and  wives  were  there,  whose  love  did 
not  long  survive  the  days  of  their  courtship,  and  whose 
hearts  were  now  separated  from  each  other.  Happy  lovers 
were  there,  with  the  day  of  their  espousals  near  at  hand, 
mutually  longing  for  that  hour  which  would  make  them  one 
for  life.  Others  were  there,  who  had  once  rejoiced  in  each 
other's  love,  but  were  now  divided  in  feeling  as  far  as  the 
east  is  from  the  west.     Young  men  were  there,  the  pride 


118  .  STRAY    I.PLVVKS. 

and  deli<j;ht  of  all  who  knew  them — the  hope,  theMefence^^of 
their  country.  Young  men  were  there,  the  shame,  tho 
sorrow  of  their  rohitives,  for  they  feared  not  the  Lord,  nor 
roi^ardcd  man. 

And  Springtown  luid  another  famous  place  of  resort  for  all 
kinds  of  spectators — Odum's  bridge,  the  public  place  for 
baptizing  those  who  had  left  the  world,  and  had  come  out 
on  the  side  of  the  Lord.  Imagine  yourself  there  on  some 
holy  Sabbath,  when  a  large  crowd  had  collected,  to  witness 
a  baptism  by  immersion.  Let  us  stand  on  the  bridge,  with 
the  waiting  throng.  Be  careful  that  you  do  not  lean  too 
much  against  the  railing ;  there  may  be  some  danger,  for 
others  are  leaning  against  it  as  well  as  yourself.  Xow, 
before  the  preacher  enters  the  water,  with  those  standing 
near  him  dressed  in  white,  with  serious  faces  and  downcast 
eyes — thinking,  I  hope,  of  the  white  robes  and  the  palms  of 
victory  on  the  other^side  of  the  flood,  in  the  green  fields  of 
Eden — let  us  overlook  the  general  crowd,  both  on  the  bridge 
and  on  each  side  of  the  creek,  in  carriages,  buggies,  and  gigs ; 
on  horses  and  on  foot.  Do  you  think  all  those  in  that  crowd 
are  thinking  on  religious  subjects  ?  If  you  do  you  are  greatly 
mistaken.  Look  again ;  do  you  not  see  several  persons 
laughing  and  talking ;  paying  no  more  respect  to  the  solemn 
sight  before  them  than  they  do  to  the  preaching  of  the  gos- 
pel in  the  house  of  the  Lord.  Some  are  there  who  do  not 
wish  to  see  the  work  of  the  Lord  reviving,  and  sinners  re- 
turning from  the  error  of  their  waj^s,  but  would  prefer  that 
Zion  should  languish  and  iniquity  abound.  Many  a  gay  and 
trifling  son  and  daughter  of  fashion  is  in  that  throng,  sport- 
ing with  the  golden  moments  of  this  short  life,  at  the  risk  of 
the  loss  of  their  immortal  souls.  What  do  they  care  about 
religion,  or  the  church,  or  the  Saviour  of  men  ?  They  say, 
they  are  as  good  as  the}'  wish  to  be,  that  there  is  no  use  in 
talking  so  much  of  coming  out  on  the  Lord's  side,  and  start- 
ing for  heaven.  Others  are  present  whose  hearts  are  full  of 
Avicked  thoughts — anger,  euv}',  and  revenge  possess  their 
entire  hearts. 

But  now  look  at  the  other  side  of  the  picture ;  there  arc 
many  beautiful  sights  to  be  seen,  at  which  angels  and  holy 


A    PICTURE    OF    THE   CONGREGATION.  119 

spirits  lox^e  to  look.  Kotice  that  aged  man  and  the  woman 
at  his  side ;  their  eyes  are  filled  with  tears  ;  and  they,  per- 
haps, are  thinking  of  the  time  long  gone  by,  when  they  were 
first  made  to  dread  the  wrath  to  come ;  when  after  drinking 
the  wormwood  and  the  gall,  they  at  last  passed  from  death 
unto  life,  and  were  in  that  very  stream  baptized  in  the  Lord. 
They  feel  very  thankful  for  the  grace  that  has  brought  them 
safe  thus  far,  and  hope  to  be  in  a  better  world.  Look  at 
those  young  ladies,  with  tears  streaming  from  their  eyes ; 
they  are  sorry  they  have  not  yet  found  the  pearl  of  great 
price,  and  are  praying  now  that  they  may  soon  be  ready  to 
give  their  hearts  to  the  Saviour,  and  their  hands  to  the 
church.  Notice  those  young  men  near  the  centre  of  the 
bridge,  who  look  so  serious,  so  sad.  The  blessed  Spirit  is  at 
work  in  their  hearts — reproving  them  ''of  sin,  of  rightous- 
ness,  and  of  a  judgment  to  come."  How  the  tears  fall  troiv 
their  eyes  into  the  water  that  flows  beneath  them.  Devils 
are  disappointed,  while  angels  are  rejoicing ;  for  those  young 
men  will  soon  embrace  the  faith,  following  their  Saviour  and 
the  example  set  before  them.  Perhaps  one  of  them,  in  years 
to  come,  will  preach  the  blessed  gospel.  Observe  that  strong 
man  mounted  on  that  fine  horse  near  the  water :  he  is  much 
distressed,  for  he  once  loved  the  Saviour,  but  has  gone  back 
to  the  world ;  the  sight  before  him  reminds  him  of  all  he  has 
lost ;  and  he  is  now  resolved  to  return  to  the  blessed  Shep- 
herd. See  that  man  on  your  left,  dressed  in  deep  mourning, 
with  crape  on  his  hat  and  arm;  now  his  face  is  cast  down  ; 
now  his  eyes  arc  lifted  to  heaven.  He  seems  to  notice  very 
little  of  what  is  going  on  around  him.  He  has  lately  lost  his 
much  loved  wife — the  mother  of  that  little  boy  at  his  side. 
When  she  kissed  him  the  last  time  he  promised  her  to  meet 
her  in  heaven ;  and  he  is  trying  to  keep  his  word.  He  has 
been  up  more  than  once  for  the  prayers  of  the  church. 

But  let  us  stop  looking  about  now^,  for  the  solemn  service 
has  begun.  Listen  to  that  holy  song.  Xow  the  minister 
with  those  around  him  enter  the  stream;  and  one  by  one 
they  are  baptized  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  of  hosts.  We  will 
leave  the  place  now  and  return  to  the  church,  hoping  the 
Lord  will  save  us  all  in  his  heavenly  kingdom. 


120  bTKAY    J.EAVES. 

Before  1  tell  3'()ii  of  Honie  of  those  good  nieetingHHliey  used 
to  have  there  in  oklen  times,  let  me  tell  you  of  Home  of  the 
old  members  of  the  church.  Clone  by  one  of  the  windows, 
not  far  from  the  ]>iilpit,  is  an  aged  man,  trembling  beneath 
the  weight  of  many  years.  He  is  quite  deaf,  and  you  have 
to  speak  very  loud  to  him.  lie  loves  the  church,  and  has 
])een  a  long  time  traveling  the  road  to  heaven.  That  is  Bro- 
ther Daniel  Odum.  That  man  Avho  sits  not  far  off,  and  who 
looks  like  him,  is  his  son.  Captain  Odum  is  one  of  the  old 
members  Avhose  faith  is  firmly  fixed  on  the  Kock  of  Ages. 
See  that  man  in  front  of  the  pulpit  with  a  serious,  grave  face, 
and  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  preacher  as  if  he  w^ished  to 
hear  every  w^ord ;  and  near  by  you  will  see  a  man  who  re- 
sembles him  much,  and  who,  if  possible,  pays  more  attention 
to  the  sermon — bending  slightly  forward,  with  his  large  eyes 
opened  wide.  Those  are  two  brothers,  by  the  name  of  Eice, 
good  men  and  true.  See  that  thin,  spare  man,  with  a  modest, 
quiet  face,  sitting  near  the  end  of  that  bench  ;  that  is  Brother 
P.  S.  These,  with  many  others,  worshipped  the  Holy  One 
of  Israel  at  the  memorable  Springtown  church,  where  I  often 
went  when  quite  a  young  man.  After  I  joined  the  church, 
of  course  I  did  not  go  as  frequently  as  before ;  but  I  did  so 
once  in  awhile,  for  the  sake  of  -'auld  lang  syne."  In  after 
years,  when  I  had  been  called  to  the  ministry,  I  was  some- 
times requested  to  preach  there.  I  have  been  to  many  good 
meetings  there  since  I  started  for  heaven. 

I  was  there  once  on  the  holy  Sabbath,  and  was  in  the  pul- 
pit, w^hen  I  unfortunately  threw  down  the  Bible,  which, 
being  a  large  one,  got  quite  a  heavy  fall.  I  was  much  con- 
fused— hardly  knowing  what  to  do.*  1  sat  down  much  dis- 
tressed; but  a  good  Brother,  John  Odum,  whom  I  expect  is 

^I  was  once  present  at  a  Methodist  meeting  of  some  interest,  where  I 
was  to  exhort  after  the  sermon  ;  and  when  I  rose,  by  some  unlucky  move 
of  my  hand,  I  turned  over  a  tumbler  of  water  into  a  friend's  hat.  I  at 
once  sat  down;  for  some  time  much  confused.  There  was  a  brother 
present  who  had  witnessed  the  fall  of  the  Bible,  and  who  observed  after- 
wards that  he  said  to  himself,  Brother  B.  will  not  say  another  word,  or 
else  will  give  us  one  of  his  Springtown  efforts  again.  After  awhile  I  got  up 
and  began  to  exhort,  and  by  the  aid  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  made  quite  an 
impression  on  the  congregation. 


A   GRACIOUS   MEETING.  121 

in  heaven  to-day,  handed  it  to  me.  I  arose  at  once,  and  after 
thanking  him,  began,  with  the  help  of  the  Lord,  to  exhort ; 
and  with  such  eifect  that  some  of  the  friends  thought  it  was 
done  intentionally.  But  those  who  know  me  well,  will  be- 
lieve me  when  tell  them  I  only  spoke  on  the  impulse  of  the 
moment. 

I  was  once  present  at  a  blessed  meeting  at  old  Springtown, 
with  that  pious  and  venerable  minister  of  the  Lord,  Brother 
Brooker,  one  of  the  good  men  of  old,  of  strong  faith,  and  full 
of  the  Holy  Ghost  and  of  power,  in  whom  saint  and  sinner 
believed.  The  good  old  man  and  myself  were  alone  for  sev- 
eral days.  The  members  of  the  church  seemed  to  rejoice  in 
the  anticipation  of  the  joys  of  heaven,  when  the  warfare  of 
life  is  over.  I  generally  preached,  and  he  exhorted,  and  the 
Strength  of  Israel  was  with  us.  I  see  him  before  me  now,  as 
he  stood  in  the  olden  days,  full  of  zeal,  and  hope,  and  trust 
in  the  Lord,  and,  with  tears  flowing  down  his  aged  face,  told 
us  of  the  blessed  hope  he  had,  through  grace,  of  one  day  get- 
ting to  heaven,  where  he  hoped  his  old  friends  would  gladly 
welcome  him,  and  where  he  expected  to  spend  a  happy  eter- 
nity in  praising  the  Lord ;  and  as  he  turned  to  sinners  and 
implored  them  to  flee  the  wrath  to  come.  Then  he  would 
sing  a  holy  song,  "and  young  and  old  would  come  up  for 
prayer,  when  some  one  would  experience  a  change  of  heart ; 
and  then  he  would  pass  through  the  crowd,  and  shake  hands 
with  the  brethren — Odum,  Eice,  Matheny,  and  others — telling 
us  he  hoped  to  meet  us  all  in  heaven  by  and  bye.  Thus,  day 
after  day,  I  would  preach,  and  he  exhort,  and  the  blessed 
Spirit  would  descend.     O  1  it  was  a  holy,  happy  meeting. 

I  love  to  think  of  those  glorious  times  at  old  Springtown. 
"  Some  men  never  sell  for  what  they  are  worth,"  while  others 
do  for  more  ;  that  is,  some  persons  are  thought  more  of  than 
they  deserve  to  be,  while  others  never  occupy  their  proper 
position,  and  are  not  properly  valued  by  the  church  and  the 
world.  I  have  seen  more  than  one  member  of  our  church 
standing  where  I  thought  he  ought  not  to  be — the  place 
being  either  too  high  or  too  low.  Now,  the  good  Book  tells 
us,  that  the  man  who  went  up  too  high  was  made  to  des- 
cend ;  and  the  man  who  took  the  low  seat  was  requested  to 
8 


122  STRAY    LEAVES. 

go  U])  higher.  But  in  thene  days,  we  Boe  some  persons  are 
permitted  to  fill  positions  too  exalted  for  them ;  and,  strange 
to  say,  instead  of  being  made  to  come  lower,  they  are  allowed 
to  continue  to  climb  still  higher :  while  on  the  other  hand, 
you  will  see  a  man,  who  is  thought  much  more  of  by  the 
Holy  Spirit,  yet  is  made  during  his  laborious,  useful  life,  to 
sit  in  some  humble,  obscure  place.  But  I  think  in  eternity 
another  change  will  take  place.  I  hope  so,  at  least.  And 
many  will  be  quite  surprised,  when  they  see  many  Metho- 
dist and  Baptist  preachers,  who  never  had  LL.D.,  or  D.D., 
or  P.E.  attached  to  their  names,  filling  a  more  exalted  place 
in  heaven,  and  much  more  respected  and  esteemed  by  the 
inhabitants  of  the  better  world  than  they  were  while  here 
upon  earth.  Now,  in  my  mind,  that  good  man,  Brother 
Brooker,  never  "sold  for  what  he  was  worth;"  he  was  per- 
mitted to  occupy  too  low  a  position.  But  that  earnest  and 
zealous  preacher  has  long  since  gone  to  the  green  fields  of 
Eden,  on  the  other  side  of  the  flood,  where  I  expect  the 
blessed  spirits  of  glory  respect  him  much  more  than  the  sons 
of  men  did  upon  earth.  He  did  not  enter  into  the  rest  that 
remains  for  the  people  of  God  as  soon  as  he  expected — as 
soon  as  he  hoped  to ;  but  his  haj^py  soul  has  been  for  many 
years  rejoicing  in  the  realms  above,  close  by  the  eternal 
throne.  All  hail !  departed  brother ;  thou  hast  fought  the 
good  fight ;  thou  hast  kept  the  faith ;  thou  hast  finished  thy 
course.  Thy  warfare  is  over ;  thou  hast  long  since  entered 
into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord. 

I  had  had  a  two  days'  meeting  at  one  of  our  chuiches, 
which  closed  on  Sunday  evening ;  and  on  Monday  morning, 
one  of  the  neighbors  asked  me  to  come  and  help  them  at 
Springtown,  for  they  had  been  there  two  days  without  a 
preacher,  saying  that  Brother  Dowling  said,  unless  a  minis- 
ter came  that  day  he  would  have  to  close  the  meeting.  I 
went,  and  was  there  alone  for  two  days,  when  other  brethren 
came,  and  the  meeting  was  kept  up  for  nearly  a  fortnight. 
It  was  a  most  glorious  season  of  refreshing  from  the  Lord. 
When  I  first  got  there.  Brother  D.  requested  me  to  take 
charge  of  the  meeting,  and  conduct  the  service  as  1  would 
a  Methodist  meeting.     The  friends  generally  seemed  pleased 


BAPTISTS  AND  METHODISTS  WOKKING  TOGETHER.     123 

that  I  had  come.  I  tried  to  labor  as  faithfully  for  them,  as 
if  I  had  been  in  my  own  church.  There  was  a  great  out- 
pouring of  the  Spirit ;  and  the  Strange  Preacher  enjoyed 
that  blessed  meeting,  and  his  soul  exulted  in  the  Holy  One 
of  Israel.  That  was  as  good  a  meeting  as  I  ever  took  part 
in  at  that  holy  place.  Brother  D.  came  to  me  one  da}',  and 
said,  he  wished,  after  I  had  finished  preaching,  to  address 
those  present,  and  to  advise  them  to  pray  for  a  deep'er  work 
of  grace ;  and  then  to  invite  all  who  felt  like  meeting  me  in 
heaven  to  come  and  join  their  hands.  O,  my  soul !  what  a 
crowd  came  up !  AYe  wept  and  rejoiced  together.  Sinners 
were  then  requested  to  kneel  at  their  seats ;  and  every  per- 
son in  the  house  bowed  before  the  Lord.  What  a  solemn 
time  !  We  prayed  together ;  and  then  some  sweet  songs  of 
Zion  were  heard ;  and  the  Strange  Preacher  clapped  his 
hands,  and  shouted,  "Farewell,  world!  I  am  bound  for  the 
kingdom."  And  Brothers  D.,  and  R.,  and  K.,  and  C,  and 
others,  looked  as  if,  were  it  the  Lord's  will,  they  were  then 
willing  to  leave  this  world,  and  go  home  to  rest  for  ever- 
more, on  the  other  side  of  the  flood,  in  the  sweet  fields  of 
Eden ;  there  was  "  rejoicing  in  the  tabernacles  of  the  righteous, 
for  the  right  hand  of  the  Lord  did  valiantly."  It  seems  that 
I  can  even  now  feel  the  pressure  of  the  hand  of  more  than 
one  happy  servant  of  the  Lord,  as  I  went  among  them, 
praising  the  Lord,  "for  his  goodness,  and  for  his  wonderful 
works  to  the  children  of  men."  A  stranger  passing  by,  and 
seeing  how  we  were  enjoying  that  gracious  outpouring  of 
the  Holy  Spirit,  might  have  said  to  himself,  "this  is  a  ver^^ 
fine  time  our  Methodist  friends  are  having  here."  But  it 
was  a  Baptist  meeting  at  Springtown  in  the  olden  days. 
After  a  while  Brother  Sanders,  the  pastor,  came  and  others 
with  him.  The  blessed  work  continued  to  increase  in  in- 
terest ;  the  Lord  was  in  his  holy  temple — "  his  stately  steps 
were  heard  amid  the  golden  candlesticks."  A7hat  a  beautiful 
sight  it  must  have  been  to  the  Great  Head  of  the  church,  to 
see  his  servants  agreeing  together  in  love,  and  tj^avelling 
along  side  by  side,  to  "  Immanuel's  land,  where  the  waters 
flow  so  sweetly ! "  What  pleasant  prayer-meetings  were 
held  in  those  days,  before  preaching ;  and  how  the  sweet 


124  STRAY    LEAVES. 

songs,  which  Brother  C.  and  others  Hung,  would  help  to  en- 
courage the  heart  of  the  minister,  when  he  stood  up  to  pro- 
claim the  gospel  to  a  lost  world  ! 

The  meeting  was  well  attended  every  day,  and  the  interest 
manifested  continued  to  increase  rather  than  abate.  The 
preacher  was  requested  by  his  Baptist  brethren  to  remain 
with  them  to  the  end j  for  as  the  Lord  had  begun  the  good 
work  with  him,  they  wished  him  to  remain  to  the  close.  I 
had  to  preach,  and  to  leave  them  on  Friday,  to  go  to  Bin- 
nakers  camp-meeting.  What  an  affecting  scene  it  was  to 
see  the  Strange  Preacher  parting  with  his  friends  on  that 
memorable  evening !  Some  of  them  said,  as  he  was  going  to 
leave,  they  would  go  too ;  so  they  left  their  meeting,  and 
went  with  him.  It  closed  on  Sunday  evening ;  and  many 
concluded  it  was  one  of  the  best  times  they  had  ever  had  at 
that  church. 

Many  of  the  old  heroes  of  Springtown  have  long  since 
gone  home  to  that  happy  place,  where  the  "  wicked  cease 
from  troubling,  and  the  weary  are  at  rest."  They  served 
the  Lord  in  their  day  and  generation ;  they  held  out  faithful 
to  the  end ;  and  they  now  rest  from  their  labors  in  the  para- 
dise above. 


LEAF  THE  TWENTIETH. 

"in  union  there  is  strength;"  or,  the  two  flags  waving 
together;  or,  judah  and  simeon  together,  with  locked 

SHfELDS,  pressing  THE  BATTLE  TO  IHE  GATE. 

I  have  often  said,  I  regarded  it  as  a  blessing,  that  there 
were  several  branches  of  the  one  true  church  of  our  blessed 
Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ ;  for  by  this,  I  think,  all  men 
are  left  without  excuse.  I  have  always,  as  thousands  can 
testify,  told  the  people  to  join  whatever  branch  they  pre- 
ferred ;  and  I  have  often  felt  very  sorry  that  there  was  so 
little  love  and  good  feeling,  as  there  seems  to  be  in  some 
places ;  because  of  which,  I  am  afraid,  there  has  been  untold 
injury  done  to  the  cause  of  truth.  I  believe  in  every  person 
living  in  the  church  of  one's  choice ;  but  I  think  all  children 
of  the  Lord  should  comfort  and  strengthen  each  other  in 
their  labors  of  love,  and  in  advancing  the  kingdom  of  our 
Lord  upon  earth.  I  know  there  are  some  persons,  for  I 
have  seen  them  at  their  low  calling,  whose  whole  hearts  are 
employed  in  proselyting.  Never  mind  how  contented  a 
man  may  be,  some  of  these  birds  of  evil  omen  will  gather 
around,  and  try  to  make  him  discontented  where  he  has 
long  enjoyed  himself.*  And  should  they  succeed  in  bringing 
him  over,  they  will  wave  flags,  and  blow  trumpets,  and  pub- 
lish it  from  the  house-tops,  that  a  great  victory  has  been 
won.  I  suspect  angels  are  sorry,  and  devils  glad,  to  see 
such  men  at  their  foul  work. 

But,  O,  my  soul !  what  a  beautiful  sight  it  is,  to  see  mem- 
bers of  the  various  churches  helping  at  each  other's  meetings 
to  press  the  battle  to  the  gate,  by  preaching,  exhorting,  and 
praying  together — making  united  efforts  to  advance  their 
Master's  cause  !  I  believe,  that  in  some  places,  one  branch 
of  the  church  will  do  more  good  than  another ;  and  think  it  is 
the  direct  will  of  the  Lord ;  for  in  Judges  i.  3,  n  is  said, 
'  Now,  after  the  death  of  Joshua,  it  came  to  pass,  that  the 
children  of  Israel  asked  the  Lord,  saying,  who  shall  go  up 


126  STRAY    LEAVES. 

for  us  first  uguiiist  the  Ciuuianitcs,  first  to  fi/^ht  afj;iiinst  them? 
And  the  Lord  said,  Judah  shall  go  up ;  behold,  I  have  de- 
livered the  land  into  his  hand.  And  Judah  said  unto  Simeon, 
his  brother.  Come  up  with  me  unto  my  lot,  that  we  may 
fight  against  the  Canaanites ;  and  I  likewise  will  go  with 
thee  into  thy  lot.  So  Simeon  went  with  him."  Now,  I 
think  there  is  more  spiritual  truth  in  that  passage  than  most 
persons  suspect. 

More  than  twenty-five  years  ago,  one  night  just  before 
daylight,  I  was  aroused  from  my  slumbers  with  the  glad 
news  that  the  Lord  had  favored  his  Zion,  at  Barnwell  court- 
house, with  a  most  gracious  revival — that  the  Baptists 
and  Methodists  were  united  in  the  meeting,  and  that  the 
two  flags  were  waving  together;  that  Judah  and  Simeon, 
with  locked  shields,  were  "pressing  the  battle  to  the  gate." 
Among  the  mourners  were  two  of  my  nearest  relatives ;  and 
I  was  requested  to  hasten  to  the  help  of  the  Lord  against 
the  mighty.  After  finishing  his  task  the  evening  before,  a 
faithful  servant  got  a  horse,  and  brought  me  the  letter.  He 
could  not  be  persuaded  to  remain  till  morning,  but  started 
at  once  on  his  return.  I  could  not  sleep  any  more  that 
night,  because  of  joy  and  expectation — joy  for  the  glad  news 
I  had  heard,  and  strong  hope  and  expectation  of  still  greater 
manifestations  of  power.  I  hastened  on,  and  found  there 
a  blessed  state  of  things.  It  had  begun  in  our  church,  and 
the  Baptist  brethren  had  united  heartily  in  the  good  work. 
Brothers  Townsend  and  Green,  of  our  church,  were  on  that 
circuit  at  the  time,  and  Brothers  Duncan,  Brown,  and 
Peoples,  of  the  Baptist  church,  were  with  them.  They  had 
their  war  harness  on,  while  the  banner  of  Calvary  waved 
over  them.  In  some  respects,  that  religious  occasion  ex- 
celled all  that  I  have  ever  seen  in  my  roving  life.  I  never 
saw  at  any  other  place  the  two  flags  waving  so  fearlessly, 
harmoniously  together ;  where  Judah  and  Simeon  fought  so 
gallantly,  with  locked  shields,  and  bore  down  all  opposition. 

The  meeting  had  been  kept  up  alternately  in  each  church  ; 
and  I  sul'peet,  such  times  had  never  before  been  seen  in  the 
place.  While  thinking  of  that  blessed  meeting,  the  battle  of 
Mount  Tabor  rises  before  me,  with  all  its  unfading  glory, 


BROTHERS    DUNCAN   AND   TOWNSEND.  127 

with  all  its  immortal  surroundings — "  that  Zehulon  and  ^N'ap- 
thali  were  a  people  that  jeoparded  their  lives  unto  the  death, 
in  the  high  places  of  the  field.  They  fought  from  heaven  ; 
the  stars  in  their  course  fought  against  Sisera."  Brothers 
Duncan  and  Townsend  were  the  two  great  chiefs  of  Judah 
and  Simeon,  who  led  the  hosts  of  the  Lord  in  that  famous 
passage  of  arms  with  -hell.  The  Holy  Ghost  was  present, 
reproving  of  sin,  of  righteousness,  and  of  a  judgment  to 
come  ;  sinners  were  convicted  ;  mourners  were  weeping  ;  and 
Christians  were  rejoicing  in  the  Lord,  And  angels  carried 
the  glad  news  to  heaven,  that  prodigals  were  coming  home 
to  their  father;  while  devils  lamented  the  loss  of  their 
victims. 

My  Baptist  brethren,  you  who  knew  Brother  Duncan, 
twenty  years  ago,  remember  with  what  power  he  exhorted, 
when  the  Holy  Spirit  was  with  him,  and  when  he  ha^i  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  his  relatives  and  friends  seeking  their 
Saviour.  And  you,  my  Methodist  brothers,  who  remember 
Brother  Joel  Townsend,  the  good  man  and  true,  know  what 
a  great  man  he  was  for  protracted  meetings,  when  the 
Strength  of  Israel  was  with  him.  All  hail !  to  those  veterans 
of  Prince  Immanuel. 

The  meeting  continued  to  increase  in  interest.  Many  har- 
dened sinners  trembled  beneath  the  preached  word,  and, 
throwing  down  the  arms  of  their  rebellion,  fled  to  the  Sa- 
viour for  mercy.  Many  precious  souls  were  happily  con- 
verted, and  "  told  to  all  around,  what  a  dear  Saviour  they 
had  found ; "  and  the  membership  of  both  churches  were 
very  much  comforted,  and  were  bravely  coming  up  to  the 
help  of  the  Lord.  O  !  how  the  Saviour  and  the  happy  saints 
must  have  rejoiced,  when  they  beheld  those  two  flags  waving 
together — Judah  and  Simeon,  with  locked  shields,  charging 
the  powers  of  hell,  and  winning  the  hard-fought  battle.  What 
gracious  seasons  of  refreshing  we  had  from  the  Lord  of  Hosts ! 
"We  had  good  congregations,  particularly  at  night ;  and  they 
were  generally  attentive  and  respectful ;  and  sometimes  a 
very  strong  impression  would  rest  upon  the  entire  throng. 
At  times,  the  prayer-meetings  were  honored  by  such  dis- 
plays of  the  Holy  Ghost,  that  all  who  were  there  might  well 


128  STRAY   LEAVES. 

yay,  wo  are  Hitting  in  heavenly  places  in  Christ  Jesus.  How 
much  I  enjoyed  mysell'  at  that  never-to-be-forgotten  meeting! 
I  have  thought,  that  those  ^^ho  pass  through  great  revivals, 
without  embracing  the  terms  of  salvation,  will  be  hard  to  be 
impressed  in  after  life,  and  may  never  forsake  their  sins ; 
and  that  the  gospel  seldom  reaches  their  hearts.  I  have 
never  been  much  surprised,  that  some  persons  who  passed 
through  that  revival  without  ex2:)eriencing  a  change,  still 
remain  in  the  broad  road  to  ruin.  More  than  once  during 
the  services,  some  persons  were  so  deeply  convicted,  that 
they  seemed  to  have  lost  all  power  of  motion,  I  remember 
one  day,  when  about  leaving,  some  man  was  found  lying  be- 
tween two  benches,  perfectly  helpless.  Some  persons  became 
quite  alarmed  for  him,  as  it  was  a  sight  they  were  not  used 
to.  Brother  Townsend,  the  old  hero  of  the  cross,  who  had 
witnessed  many  such  scenes,  told  them  not  to  be  frightened, 
as  he  was  under  strong  conviction,  and  it  would  yet  be  all 
right  with  him.     Nothing  took  him  by  surprise. 

The  meeting  was  carried  on  for  several  days,  without  the 
door  of  the  church  being  opened.  But  several  had  been  con- 
verted, and  were  waiting  to  join.  So  one  night,  we  opened 
the  door  to  both  churches :  those  wishing  to  unite  with  the 
Baptist  church  were  to  give  their  hand  to  Brother  Duncan ; 
and  those  wanting  to  join  our  church  were  to  go  to  Brother 
Townsend.  I  thought  this  would  be  a  scene  on  which  angels 
would  love  to  dwell.  When  the  moment  arrived,  there^was 
much  interest  manifested,  and  the  preachers  took  their  stand, 
to  receive  those  who  might  come.  We  got  four  members, 
but  our  Baptist  brother  got  none ;  and  I  was  so  sorry  to  see 
it,  that  I  could  hardly  refrain  from  weeping ;  for  I  thought, 
had  it  been  otherwise,  that  our  Saviour  would  have  been 
better  pleased.     But  so  it  was,  and  I  was  quite  sad. 

The  meeting  continued  for  some  time  with  unabated  in- 
terest, and  many  united  with  both  branches  ;  and  before  the 
final  close  more  joined  the  Baptist,  than  the  Methodist, 
church.  Praj^er-meetings  were  held  in' private  houses  ;  and 
the  whole  place  seemed  under  religious  influence.  Old  Barn- 
well has  never  had  such  a  time  of  holy  visitation,  at  least  as 
far  as  I  remember.     I  suspect  the  fallen  spirits  more  than 


THE   IMMEKSION   CONCERT.  129 

once  looked  on  astonished — more  than  once  smote  upon  their 
breasts,  as  they  saw  those  two  flags  waving  so  gloriously  to- 
gether, while  Judah  an^  Simeon  fought  so  gallantly  together, 
pressing  the  battle  to  the  gate. 

The  holy  Sabbath,  the  great  day  of  the  feast  drew  near. 
The  report  of  the  revival  had  spread  far  and  near ;  and  many 
came  from  the  country.  What  a  memorable  Sunday  was 
that !  The  power  of  the  Highest  descended  upon  the  church 
and  the  world,  and  a  deep  impression  rested  upon  all  pre- 
sent ;  and  the  great  work  was  still  more  enlarged.  As  those 
who  united  with  us-  preferred  to  be  immersed,  we  concluded 
to  baptize  all  together. 

It  was  Monday  morning,  and  a  crowd  had  gathered  at  the 
water  side.  It  was  sale  day  at  Barnwell,  which  fact  caused 
it  to  be  greater.  What  a  sight  for  hell  and  heaven !  There 
stood  Brother  Duncan,  and  those  who  were  going  with  him ; 
and  there,  too.  Brother  Townsend  and  his  members.  Look 
at  the  throng,  in  carriages  and  buggies,  on  horseback  and  on 
foot.  See  how  crowded  is  the  bridge.  About  the  middle, 
near  the  water's  edge,  holding  on  to  the  railing,  seated  down, 
was  seen  the  Strange  Preacher,  regarding,  with  much  emo- 
tion, all  that  passed  around  him.  Among  those  now  con- 
fessing their  Saviour  to  the  world,  are  two  very  near  to  him 
— the  father  with  Brother  D.,  and  the  son  with  Brother  T. 
The  two  preachers  with  their  converts — the  chiefs  of  Judah 
and  Simeon,  entered  the  water  side  by  side,  and  then  separ- 
ated, and  formed  two  lines  fronting  each  other.  What  a 
moment  of  interest !  All  were  looking  at  the  ministers  and 
those  around  them.  Brother  T.  requested  Brother  D.  to 
begin ;  but  Brother  D.  wanted  him  to  lead ;  and  then  Bro- 
ther T.  baptized  one,  in  the  name  of  the  Father,  of  the  Son, 
and  of  the  Holy  Ghost;  and  Brother  D.  said  "Amen;"  and 
then  Brother  D.  baptized  one,  and  Brother  T.  responded 
"  Amen."  And  so  the  solemn  services  were  conducted  to 
the  close.  Brother  D.  said  to  his  own  brother,  as  he  took 
his  hand,  "  brother,  my  brother."  And  the  father  and  son 
now  embraced  each  other  in  the  water;  and  the  Strange 
Preacher  could  not  bear  that  sight,  but  shouted  out  aloud, 
and  gave  glory  to  the  Highest.  The  benediction  was  pro- 
nounced,  and  the  crowd  retired. 


130  STRAY    LEAVES. 

Aly  friends,  let  nie  try  to  draw  unother  picture  for  you. 
I  was  once  travelling  alone,  and  had  cros.sed  nafely  over  a 
deep,  broad  river,  and  was  passing  through  a  swamp  on  the 
other  side.  It  was  a  hot  day;  and  the  sun  was  shining  very 
brightly,  when  I  came  to  a  large  field  near  the  roadside, 
filled  with  golden-headed  wheat,  ripe  for  the  harvest.  I 
stopped,  and  said  to  myself,  "  What  a  picture !  Can  I  not 
make  use  of  it  in  my  Master's  cause?  Suj^pose,  this  very 
liot  day,  some  few  reapers  were  appointed  to  cut  that  wheat 
down  in  an  allotted  time,  which  would  soon  transpire,  and 
were  to  be  well  rewarded  by  the  owner  when  the  work  was 
done."  I  said  to  myself,  "  they  would  not  quarrel  with  each 
other,  but  go  regularly  to  work ;  for  the  sooner  that  field  is 
reaped,  the  sooner  would  the  resting  time  and  the  bounty 
come."  I  said  again  to  myself,  "  now,  the  world  is  a  great 
spiritual  field,  filled  with  immortal  souls,  ripe  for  the  bar- 
vest  ;  and  the  difterent  branches  of  the  one  true  church,  and 
all  the  preachers,  have  been  appointed  by  the  Master  to 
gather  that  great  harvest  field.  Why  should  they  dispjute 
with  each  other — the  world  is  large  enough  for  them  all  to 
work  in,  and  win  souls  for  their  Master.  The  day  of  judg- 
ment is  hastening  on,  when  we  will  have  to  stand  before  the 
great  Eternal;  and,  O!  that  the  friends  of  the  Saviour  would 
go  to  work  to  gather  in  that  mighty  harvest.  If  we  are 
faithful  to  the  end,  that  blessed  time  of  rest  and  of  bounty 
money  will  come  at  last ;  and  then,  when  the  great  field  of 
the  world  is  reaped,  the  angels  will  sing  the  harvest  home." 
O !  friends  of  Jesus,  in  the  one  true  church,  in  all  the  sin- 
cerity of  my  heart,  I  entreat  you  to  be  more  united  in  love 
and  friendship.  We  all  serve  the  same  Lord,  and  are  all 
bound  for  the  same  place.  I  believe,  with  all  my  soul,  that 
we  would  please  our  Saviour  better,  and  would  better  ad- 
vance his  kingdom  among  men,  if  we  were  more  strongly- 
united  in  the  bonds  of  Christian  affection. 

I  think  it  is  still  remembered  in  heaven  and  hell,  that 
there  was  once  a  time,  at  Barnwell  court-house,  when  the 
two  flags  waved  harmoniously  together;  and  that  Judah 
and  Simeon,  with  locked  shields,  pressed  the  battle  to  the 
gate. 


LEAF  THE  TWEKTY-FIRST. 

MEETINGS   IN    ALABAMA. 

Well,  my  friends,  let  me  tell  you  of  some  interesting  meet- 
ings I  attended  in  Alabama,  some  twenty  years  ago.  I  went 
to  visit  a  friend,  who  lived  near  Montgomery,  and  to  attend 
some  meetings  in  the  vicinity.  I  took  the  cars  at  Bamberg. 
I  enjoy  a  railroad  ride  very  much,  when  there  are  not  too 
many  on  board,  and  when  there  is  no  smoking  or  drinking. 
Now,  let  us  suppose  this  trip  to  be  at  times  pleasant,  and  at 
times  otherwise.  Observe  those  young  men  seated  together. 
For  a  while  they  were  rather  silent ;  and  I  thought  one  of 
them  seemed  a  little  serious — evidently  more  so  than  his 
companions.  The  Strange  Preacher  said  to  himself,  "  I  sus- 
pect he  is  a  member  of  the  church ;  and  I  hope  the  rest  wish 
well  to  the  cause ;  I  will  sit  near  them,  and  if  I  see  an  oppor- 
tunity, speak  to  them  on  religious  matters."  But  you  must 
not  always  judge  by  appearances.  The  young  men  were 
whispering  together ;  then  he  whom  I  thought  looked  rather 
serious,  took  out  a  bottle,  and  passed  it  round.  The  Strange 
Preacher  was  much  surprised,  and  was  soon  to  be  more  so. 
They  had  finished  drinking,  and  the  same  young  man  whom 
he  imagined  pious,  with  a  polite  bow,  oifered  the  bottle  to 
him;  after  which  the  Wandering  Arab  kept  as  far  from 
them  as  possible. 

At  the  end  of  the  journey  I  found  my  friend,  the  Doctor, 
waiting  for  me.  He  welcomed  me,  was  much  delighted  to  see 
me,  and  said  that  he  had  given  out  several  appointments 
for  me  and  that  the  friends  were  looking  forv/ard  to  them 
with  some  interest.  My  friend  had  been  married  some  time, 
and  had  several  children.  Both  he  and  his  wife  were  church 
members,  and  she  appeared  to  enjoy  religion — was  happy  in 
her  Saviour's  love  ;  but  he  confessed  himself  a  backslider, 
and  rather  cold.  While  conversing  with  him,  my  feelings 
were  much  moved  when  I  found  out  how  indifferent  he  was. 
I  had  some  time  to  rest  before  the  first  meeting  began,  every 


132  STRAY    LEAVES. 

thing  being  clone  to  make  me  feel  at  home.  The  Doctor 
observed  to  me,  neveral  timcR,  that  I  munt  not  expect  a  good 
meeting;  for  the  people  generally  \vorci  indifferent,  and  they 
had  not  had  one  there  for  Beveral  years ;  that  the  services 
would  not  be  protracted,  as  we  would  be  perfectly  willing  to 
close  on  Sunday,  for  it  would  be  a  heavy  drag  throughout. 
The  circuit  preacher  Avas  to  be  there,  })ut  notwithstanding 
our  united  efforts,  he  was  afraid  it  would  prove  a  failure. 
This  intelligence  caused  me  to  feel  cast  down,  and  I  began  to 
regret  having  come ;  but  it  was  too  late,  and  I  resolved  to 
do  the  best  I  could.  I  prayed  to  God  and  placed  my  trust 
in  the  Eock  of  ages.  The  time  was  near,  and  the  Doctor 
repeated  his  warning.  I  asked  him  not  to  mention  it  again, 
as  it  discouraged  me,  but  he  said  he  did  it  purposely ;  for  he 
saw  how  high  my  hopes  were,  and  he  wanted  me  to  know 
the  true  state  of  the  case.  One  day  I  became  so  disheartened 
that  I  told  him  I  would  retire  to  my  room  awhile.  He  gave 
me  the  last  Southern  Christian  Advocate :  I  took  it,  but  did 
not  expect  to  read  many  lines.  When  I  was  alone  I  looked 
^o  the  Lord  for  help.  After  a  while  I  opened  the  paper 
carelessly,  but  my  attention  soon  became  fixed.  I  saw  a 
piece  entitled,  "A  Minister's  Dream  of  meeting  his  Mother 
in  Heaven ;"  which  I  read  and  found  that  it  was  a  dream  of 
my  own.  I  became  roused  up,  and  again  knelt  down  and 
thanked  my  Lord.  I  exulted  in  the  hope  of  meeting  that 
mother  in  the  green  fields  of  Eden.  Some  time  before,  I  had 
told  that  beautiful  dream  for  the  first  time,  while  preaching 
at  Summerton,  in  Sumter  District,  and  I  was  told  afterwards 
that  Miss  E.  S.,  the  sweet  muse  of  Clarendon,  was  present 
and  wrote  those  beautiful  lines,  which  I  saw  for  the  first  time 
while  in  Alabama.  I  was  much  comforted  and  strengthened, 
and  when  I  left  my  room,  my  feelings  were  entirely  different 
from  those  with  which  I  entered  it. 

The  church  was  called  Oak  Grove,  and  when  we  started 
to  the  meeting  the  Doctor  still  continued  to  warn  me  not  to 
expect  too  much.  I  took  it  much  better  than  before,  and 
prayed  with  more  faith  to  the  Saviour  of  my  dear  mother, 
long  gone  to  heaven.  My  trust  was  firmly  fixed  on  the  Eter- 
nal Eock,  and  I  claimed  the  promise  and  had  hold  on  the 


THE   FIRE   BURNING.  133 

horns  of  the  altar.  I  cannot  remember  my  text.  Before  I 
got  through,  Brother  Dancan,  the  minister  in  charge,  came 
in.  I  was  afterwards  introduced  to  him,  and  he  preached  in 
the  evening.  I  was  much  pleased  with  him.  The  meeting 
had  begun  under  happy  auspices,  and  I  praised  the  Lord  for 
that  gracious  time.  The  members  of  the  church  enjoyed 
themselves  very  much — my  hopes  were  high — my  flag  was 
waving.  The  Doctor  came  to  me  much  excited  and  observed 
that  he  had  made  a  great  mistake,  and  wished  to  recall  what 
he  had  said.  He  was  convinced  that  we  would  have  a  revi- 
val ;  and  did  not  know  when  we  would  close.  Sunda}^  came, 
and  O,  what  a  happy  day  it  Avas  for  the  entire  church.  I 
hope  the  friends  in  that  community  have  not  forgotten  that 
gracious  time.  Our  love  feast  was  a  season  of  refreshing 
from  the  presence  of  the  Lord.  The  church  could  not  ac- 
commodate the  large  crowd.  We  had  two  sermons,  and 
Brother  B.  made  a  still  stronger  impression  on  me,  and  there 
was  a  blessed  manifestation  of  the  power  of  the  Highest.  I 
was  told  that  such  scenes  had  not  been  witnessed  there  for 
years.  Several  mourners  came  to  the  altar,  and  among  then^ 
I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the  Doctor  and  a  friend  of  his 
come  to  the  altar.  Both  were  members,  but  had  grown  cold 
and  wished  to  be  restored  to  their  first  love.  The  church 
felt  much  and  prayed  earnestly  for  them.  We  had  some  con- 
versions and  several  additions  to  the  church.  The  meeting 
continued  and  the  Doctor  came  to  me  again  and  spoke  of  the 
happy  time  we  were  having,  and  said  he  had  no  idea  when 
we  would  close.  The  meeting  increased  in  interest,  I  think, 
until  the  next  Sabbath.  I  have  forgotten  several  things  con- 
nected therewith,  but  one  circumstance  I  hope  never  to  forget. 
One  day  during  the  meeting  Doctor  Hamilton,  the  Presid- 
ing Elder,  came  to  help  us,  and  I  think  preached  twice.  The 
first  sermon  I  have  never  forgotten — particularly  the  intro- 
duction. His  text  was  Psalms  Ix,  1-3.  The  sermon  made  a 
life-time  impression  on  the  Strange  Preacher — having  heard 
hundreds  since  which  I  have  entirely  forgotten,  and  having 
preached  many  myself,  of  which  I  have  no  recollection.  But 
that  of  Doctor  H.  is  still  remembered.  His  face  would  inter- 
est you  before  he  said  anything.     He  represented  to  us  the 


134  STRAY    LEAVES. 

Eternal  Jehovah,  Heated  on  his  throne,  surrounded  by  all  the 
glories  of  the  better  world.  The  great  princes  stood  all 
around  the  immortal  King.  The  six  winged  seraphim  stood 
and  cried,  one  to  another,  "  Holy,  holy,  holy,  is  the  Lord  of 
hosts — the  whole  earth  is  full  of  his  glory."  And  you  might 
have  imagined  jcm  saw  the  holy  angels  fall  before  the  throne 
on  their  faces  as  they  worshipped  the  Eternal,  saying,  "Amen ; 
blessing,  and  glory,  and  wisdom,  and  thanksgiving,  and 
power,  and  honor,  and  might  be  unto  our  God  forever  and 
ever,  amen."  He  then  spoke  of  the  distressed  state  in  which 
the  man  was,  who  Avas  represented  in  the  text.  He  enlarged 
upon  the  awful  pit  as  he  saw  it  represented.  There  the  poor 
prisoner  raised  his  plaintive  cry  for  help,  but  was  not  lifted 
up.  He  did  not  stop,  but  still  continued  his  cry.  What  he 
said  about  waiting  patiently  for  the  Lord  was  a  sermon  itself. 
Imagine  again  that  you  behold  the  King  on  His  eternal 
throne.  What  is  that  which  seems  to  impress  the  Monarch  ? 
He  seemed  like  one  listening  to  a  distant  sound.  He  raises 
his  hand;  there  is  a  great  silence  in  heaven.  The  King  leans 
forward  and  listens  again.  He  descends  from  his  throne, 
and  goes  to  the  golden  walls  and  bends  over,  and  signs  to 
the  angels  again,  and  there  is  still  a  greater  silence.  The 
blessed  spirits  hold  their  breath  and  the  holy  winds  are 
hushed.  The  King  inclines  still  more — the  holy  land  is  just 
beneath.  He  has  found  out  from  whence  proceeded  that 
cry.  It  is  from  the  man  in  the  horrible  pit ;  he  hastens  to 
his  help  and  delivers  him,  "placing  his  foot  upon  a  rock  and 
establishing  his  going."  Thus  is  the  sinner  saved  from  the 
awful  pit  by  the  Saviour  of  the  world. 

The  meeting  closed,  and  I  went  on  to  other  appointments. 
On  my  way  to  Eobinson  Springs  I  spent  some  time  in  Mont- 
gomery. Come,  friends,  and  stand  with  me  on  the  banks  of 
the  Alabama  river,  and  listen  with  me  when  I  hear,  for  the 
first  time,  that  beautiful  story  of  "  Here  we  rest."  The 
Doctor  asked  me,  if  I  knew  the  meaning  of  the  Indian  word 
'•  Alabama,"  He  told  me,  that  long  before  the  days  of  76 
there  was  a  tribe  of  roving  Indians,  flying  before  the  advance 
of  the  pale  face,  who  was  driving  them  off  and  taking  their 
lands;  and  that  after  a  long  and  dreary  journey  they  came 


135 

at  last,  tired  and  faint,  to  a  noble  river,  teeming  with  fish. 
The  woods  were  filled  with  game,  and  this  seemed  to  them 
an  earthly  paradise,  and  here  their  chief  told  them  to  stop  ; 
that  they  had  at  last  found  their  "Alabama,"  meaning  '-here 
we  rest;"  that  their  roving  life  was  ended,  and  that  the 
pale  face  would  follow  them  no  more,  as  he  would  be  content 
with  what  he  had  got.  The  tribe  believed  him,  and  sang, 
'^Trouble's  over,  trouble's  over,"  and  enjoyed  themselves  in 
peace  for  many  years.  One  summer's  evening,  near  sundown, 
the  young  men  had  returned  from  the  hunt,  loaded"  with 
game,  and  many  fish  had  been  caught ;  the  children  were 
playing  under  the  noble  trees ;  the  old  men  were  seated 
round,  smoking  the  pipe  of  peace ;  and  the  aged  chief  was 
standing  apart  from  the  others,  well  pleased  with  what  he 
saw.  Suddenly  he  started,  looked  up,  and  listened!  His 
face  had  a  sad  expression — he  gave  the  sign — there  was 
silence  all  around.  A  tear  fell  from  his  eye ;  he  smote  his 
breast,  and  said  aloud,  "  I  hear  the  hum  of  the  honey  bee — 
the  pale  face  is  coming.  Yes,  he  is  coming — this  is  no  longer 
an  Alabama  for  us — we  must  again  begin  our  wandering!" 

The  Doctor  said  that  he  was  present,  several  years  before, 
when  the  last  of  the  Creek  Indians  were  removed  to  the 
lands  in  the  "West,  which  had  been  given  to  them,  when  two 
warriors,  who  said  they  would  not  go,  had  to  be  bound ;  and 
while  waiting  at  the  river,  they,  by  a  mighty  eifort,  burst 
their  bands  and  tried  to  escape,  but  were  soon  killed  by  the  sol- 
diers ;  whereupon  the  Indian  maidens  rushed  up,  tearing  their 
hair  and  lamenting  the  death  of  their  leaders  and  frequently 
kissing  their  wounds.  My  friend  told  me  how  sadly  he  felt 
as  he  looked  on.  And  while  I  listened,  with  tears  in  my 
eyes,  a  cloud  gathered  overhead  and  several  large  drops  fell 
slowly,  when  the  AYandering  Arab  said  to  himself,  '-perhaps 
some  departed  spirits  of  the  Indian  braves  are  hovering  over 
lis,  weeping  with  me  as  I  listen  to  the  sad  tale  of  the  Ala- 
bama— here  we  rest."  No  where  will  we  rest  safely  but  in 
heaven. 

I  was  at  more  than  one  meeting  at  Robinson's  Springs, 
but  I  have  forgotten  most  things  connected  with  them. 
There,  I  formed  the  acquaintance  of  a  Brother  Whetstone, 


13G  STRAY   LEAVES. 

a  local  ])roac'hor,  who  liad  removed  from  South  Caroli- 
na— and  an  imelc  of  Ca])tain  Whetstone,  of  our  neis^hbor- 
hood.  lie  was  in  the  decline  of  life ;  but  full  of  faith  and 
hojie — bound  for  glory  and  heaven.  I  was  treated  with 
much  kindness  by  that  aged  servant  of  the  Lord,  and  all  his 
family. 

The  lands  in  this  portion  of  Alabama  were  not  so  rich  as 
those  around  Oak  Grove;  but  my  first  impression  was,  that 
my  friends  there  enjoyed  more  heartfelt  religion,  and  were 
living  nearer  the  throne  of  grace.  And,  after  all,  pure  reli- 
gion is  much  to  be  preferred  to  the  riches  of  this  world.  One 
good  Heaven-blessed  meeting,  where  the  church  is  refreshed, 
where  backsliders  are  reclaimed,  where  immortal  souls  pass 
from  death  unto  life,  where  some  are  called  to  preach — is 
worth  far  more  than  all  the  cotton  and  lumber  that  was 
ever  floated  down  the  Alabama  and  Edisto  rivers — yes,  a 
thousand  times  more. 

There  was  preaching  at  Dr.  "W.'s  house  one  night.  Wo 
had  a  season  of  rejoicing — one  of  those  old-time  meetings, 
which  the  Strange  Preacher  loves  to  attend,  as  he  passes 
through  life,  calling  for  volunteers  for  glory  and  heaven. 
It  was  a  season  of  general  enjoyment  among  Grod's  people. 
How  happy  I  felt,  while  listening  to  those  heavenly  songs ; 
one  of  which  I  remembered  having  heard  once  before.  The 
chorus  was, 

*  *  We  have  but  one  more  river  to  cross. 
And  then  we'll  sing  Hosannah !  " 

During  my  trip,  the  best  meeting  I  attended  was  near  the 
Springs,  at  a  church  called  Tabernacle.  It  was  a  very  in- 
teresting time.  With  the  exception  of  one  blessed  sight,  I 
now  have  but  a  faint  recollection  of  that  meeting.  All  else 
has  passed  away,  leaving  scarcely  a  trace  behind.  My  text 
for  that  day  was  one  I  used  often  in  the  olden  time.  It  was 
II  Kings  vii.  3,  4.  Twenty  years  ago,  it  was  a  favorite  pas- 
sage with  me.  There  was  a  large  crowd  out ;  the  singing 
was  thrilling,  and  the  walls  were  made  to  ring ;  the  power 
of  the  Highest  came  down,  and  many  mourners  came  up. 
The  doors  of  the  church  were  opened,  and  among  others 


THE  AGED   COUPLE.  137 

came  a  very  old  man,  over  eighty  years  old.  He  had  two 
sons,  class-leaders — good,  pious  men.  The  walls  of  that 
venerable  house,  and  the  grand  old  woods  around,  seemed 
to  cry  out,  "  Glory  in  the  Highest !  "  we,  too,  joining  in  the 
cry.  Brother  W.,  and  several  others,  seemed  ready  for  that 
happy  land;  and  the  Wandering  Arab  clapped  his  hands, 
and  shouted,  "  Farewell,  world ! "  He  passed  through  the 
throng,  exhorting  and  entreating  sinners  to  give  their  hearts 
to  their  Saviour.  But  no  words  could  tell  the  joy  of  the 
wife  of  that  old  man.  She  was  completely  overpowered, 
and  remained  for  some  time  insensible — seemingly  hovering 
between  the  two  worlds — wishing  at  once  to  be  in  heaven  to 
thank  the  Lord  personally  for  her  husband's  conversion,  and 
to  praise  him  for  ever ;  and  then  again,  if  it  was  the  Lord's 
will,  she  would  gladly  remain  on  earth,  to  help,  and  to  rejoice 
with,  the  father  of  her  Christian  sons  on  his  way  to  glory. 
Some  persons  became  alarmed,  and  sent  for  Dr.  W.  When 
she  recovered,  she  said,  with  a  heavenly  smile  on  her  face, 
and  a  tear  of  bliss  in  her  eye,  that  she  was  only  overpowered 
by  the  unexpected  pleasure  of  seeing  her  husband,  for  whom 
she  had  been  praying  for  more  than  forty  years,  profess 
religion  and  join  the  church.  The  tide  of  feeling  was  very 
strong  in  our  midst.  The  old  lady  said  she  wanted  to  see 
me ;  and  I  can  almost  now  feel  the  pressure  with  which  she 
grasped  my  hand.  She  told  me  that  she  would  never  forget 
me ;  for  that,  by  the  help  of  the  Lord,  I  had  saved  her 
husband. 

Farewell  to  Alabama ! 


LEAF  THE  TWENTY-SECOND. 

A    MEMENTO  TO  MY  DEPARTED    FRIEND,  REV.  IT.  II.  DURANT  ;    OR, 
A  VISIT  TO  SANDY  SPRING  CAMP-GROUND,  SOUTH    CAROLINA. 

I  met  Brother  Durant  first  when  on  the  Walterboro  circuit. 
Uc  was  then  quite  young,  and  I  soon  felt  a  strong  attach- 
ment for  the  youthful  preacher.  I  saw  him  for  the  last 
time  at  Binnakers,  not  long  before  his  death.  I  loved  him 
as  a  brother  in  Christ,  all  through  our  long  acquaintance. 
Farewell !  dear  departed  brother ;  we  have  spent  many 
happy  hours  together  in  this  vale  of  tears ;  I  trust  through 
grace  to  meet  you,  to  use  one  of  your  favorite  sayings,  far 
"  above  the  blue-throned  stars,"  where  sickness  and  death 
are  felt  and  feared  no  more. 

Some  years  ago,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  attending  a  meeting 
at  Sandy  Spring  camp-ground,  with  other  preachers.  I  can- 
not be  minute  in  describing  the  journey ;  but  we  arrived 
there  after  night,  and  found  the  friends  glad  to  see  us.  The 
next  day,  it  was  not  long  before  I  saw  some  signs  of  the 
Lord  among  his  people.  Occasionally,  there  was  a  shout 
heard  in  the  camp,  and  some  mourning  soul  would  be  blessed 
by  the  Lord.  To  make  use  of  a  figure,  the  friends  generally 
might  be  said  to  be  sailing  along  pleasantly,  not  far  from 
the  shore,  but  in  full  view  of  land  all  the  time — near  enough 
to  converse  with  their  friends  on  the  beach,  and  to  send 
messasres  of  love  to  the  dear  ones  at  home.     And  now  and 

to 

then,  a  vessel  returning  from  a  long  voyage,  would  say  to 
those  sailing  near  the  shore,  "  better  not  go  too  far,  for  the 
sea  is  very  rough  over  the  bar." 

Now,  let  me  tell  you  of  the  great  hero  of  camp-meetings. 
We  were  called  to  the  stand  by  the  loud-sounding  horn,  and 
the  man  that  everybody  loved  to  see  was  in  the  pulpit — the 
right  man  was  in  the  right  place.  The  hymn  had  been  sung, 
and  the  great  crowd  was  bowed  in  humble  prayer.  Those 
of  you  who  have  heard  Brother  Durant  pray,  remeniber 
with  what  power  and  unction  he  seemed  at  times  to  bo 


139 

blessed — how  he  at  times  bore  his  congregation  away  from 
earth  almost  to  the  eternal  throne.  He  gave  out  his  text. 
Well,  says  one  of  those  who  have  often  heard  him,  I  can 
guess  what  it  was — "  As  the  hart  panteth  after  the  water- 
brooks,  so  panteth  my  soul  after  thee,  O,  God  ! "  l^o ;  that 
was  not  it.  "  Who  is  he  that  cometh  from  Edom,  with  dyed 
garments  from  Bozrah?"  ]^o.  "  Thy  eyes  shall  see  Jeru- 
salem a  quiet  habitation."  Not  that.  "A  king  shall  rule 
in  righteousness."  Try  again.  "  The  time  is  short."  That's 
not  it.  Well,  it  must  have  been  that  great  favorite  of  his — 
"  As  Moses  lifted  up  the  serpent  in  the  wilderness."  That's 
it ;  you  are  right  now.  Those  of  his  friends  who  have  often 
heard  him  on  that  passage,  I  hope  will  now  be  reminded, 
both  of  his  appearance  in  the  pulpit,  and  of  his  style.  When 
he  first  got  up,  there  was  a  very  careless  air  about  his  per- 
son and  manner.  One  who  had  not  heard  him  before,  might 
have  thought  that  he  was  either  very  sleepy  or  very  tired  ; 
and  he  might  have  said,  "  I  won't  be  much  surprised  if  that 
preacher  should  finish  his  sermon  seated."  But  let  the 
stranger  wait — a  change  was  sure  to  come  over  the  preacher 
in  time.  Though  Brother  Durant  generally  begun  as  above 
described,  he  usually  became  more  interested  himself,  and  so 
would  interest  his  congregation.  As  he  went  on,  he  began 
to  warm  up  a  little — became  more  erect;  his  hands  no  lono-er 
hung  heavily  by  his  side.  He  was  telling  us  how  the  Lord 
punished  the  children  of  Israel  with  various  plagues  for  their 
sins;  and  spoke  of  the  fiery  serpents,  and  of  many  being 
bitten  by  them ;  and  of  the  sudden  awful  deaths  therefrom. 
He  dwelt  upon  the  general  terror  and  distress  throughout 
all  the  hosts,  and  told  that  the  great  Jehovah,  remembering 
the  covenant  he  had  made  with  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob, 
became  sorry  for  his  people,  and  told  Moses  of  the  remedy. 

A  brazen  serpent  was  made,  and  put  on  the  top  of  a  high 
pole;  and  a  proclamation  was  made  throughout  the  camp, 
that  all  who  had  been  bitten  could  be  cured  by  looking  on 
the  serpent.  The  heralds  were  not  sent  out  to  spread  the 
news  to  a  few  favorite  tribes ;  but  to  publish  it  to  the  entire 
host.  You  might  have  imagined  you  saw  the  messengers 
passing   through   Benjamin   and   Manasseh   alike — through 


140  tiTRAY    LEAVES. 

Eeiibon  and  Juduh,  and  all  the  tribes.  Some  who  had  been 
bitten,  were  but  little  moved  by  the  news.  Havinir  no  faitli 
in  the  remedy,  they  perished  without  an  effort;  but  the 
general  alarm  was  very  great.  At  last,  some  of  their  own 
accord,  and  others  by  persuasion,  looked  and  were  saved. 
The  glad  news  now  spread  rapidly  everywhere ;  but  still 
some  remained  incredulous — they  had  no  faith.  Others  were 
running  about,  hunting  their  friends,  and  entreating  them  to 
come  and  be  cured  ;  but  hundreds  were  still  perishing,  though 
the  serpent  was  placed  in  their  midst.  Preacher  and  congre- 
gation were  alike  very  much  excited ;  and  he  roused  himself 
for  a  mighty  effort,  and  the  crowd  looked  expectant ;  minis- 
ters, exhorters,  and  others  were  much  moved,  and  were  all 
attentive ;  but  perhaps  the  Strange  Preacher  was  more 
affected  than  all  others.     He  could  not  sit  quietly. 

Brother  D.  paused,  and  looked  up,  as  if  asking  Divine 
help,  and  then  requested  the  church  to  pray  for  him,  and 
paused  again,  as  if  to  gather  all  his  strength  for  the  great 
attempt.  He  then  drew  a  picture,  which  I  hope  many  will 
remember  in  blessed  eternity.  He  presented  to  them  a  very 
old  man,  father  of  children  and  grandchildren,  who  was 
much  respected  throughout  all  the  host,  who  had  been  bit- 
ten by  a  fiery  serpent,  and  was  in  the  last  extremity,  his 
wife  was  weeping  over  him.  She  had  been  the  partner  of 
his  many  griefs  and  his  few  pleasures,  all  through  life.  She 
hung  over  him,  overwhelmed  with  sorrow ;  for  she  remem- 
bered how  faithful  he  had  been,  and  thought  of  the  many 
times  in  Egypt,  when  he  had  worked  hard  to  finish  his 
heavy  task,  and  then  come  and  help  her  with  hers ;  and  had 
often  saved  her  from  the  whip  of  the  cruel  taskmaster ;  and 
now  he  was  almost  dead  before  her  eyes.  She  entreated 
him  to  look;  but  he  had  no  faith.  She  remembered  the 
birth  of  their  first  child;  and  felt  even  then  the  kiss  he  gave 
her  when  he  saw  the  first  pledge  of  their  love.  Oh !  if  he 
would  only  turn  his  eyes  to  the  brazen  serpent ;  but  no,  he 
would  not.  She  thought  of  the  time  when  there  was  no 
straw  given  them  to  mix  with  their  mortar;  when  he  would 
rise  much  sooner  than  usual,  and  go  all  about  to  gather 
some  ;  and  would  work  hard  to  finish  his  task,  and  would 


THE   DYING   OLD   ISRAELITE.  141 

tlieii  assist  her.  She  remembered,  too,  the  time  when  the 
arm  of  the  taskmaster  was  made  bare  for  the  blow,  but  it 
fell  not,  for  he  helped  her  through  in  time.  And  there  ho 
lay,  almost  dead  before  her  eyes.  His  relatives  were  all 
weeping  around  him,  and  implored  him  to  look ;  but  all-'in 
vpJn .  He  seemed  almost  to  pass  away ;  but  some  one  now 
came  up,  who  had  long  known  the  old  man  in  Egypt,  and 
respected  him  much,  and  told  him,  that  just  a  short  time 
ago,  an  aged  man,  who  was  almost  as  bad  off  as  he  was, 
looked,  and  was  cured.  He  had  no  faith,  and  would  not  com- 
ply. Both  preacher  and  people  had  now  become  still  more 
excited ;  and  the  Strange  Preacher  said  to  himself,  "  I  am 
afraid  he  will  die,  before  he  can  be  persuaded  to  look !  " 

The  preacher  then  told  of  some  happy  ones,  running  about 
almost  wild  with  pleasure,  telling  of  those  who  had  been 
saved.  One  who  knew  the  old  man,  and  had  worked  with 
him  in  Egypt,  came  and  told  him  of  one  who  was  much 
worse  off  than  he,  and  who  raised  his  expiring  eyes  and 
looked,  and  was  cured.  This  seemed  to  arouse  him  a  little. 
Every  now  and  then,  some  one  would  pass  them,  bearing 
their  almost  dying  friends  in  their  arms,  to  the  foot  of  the 
pole,  that  they  might  be  saved.  The  old  man's  wife  then 
made  one  last  effort ;  she  stooped  down,  and  whispered  in 
his  almost  closed  ear ;  she  kissed  his  cold  lips,  and  told  him 
of  their  sorrows  and  joys  in  Egypt ;  and  entreated  him,  for  * 
her  sake,  to  look  and  live.  The  old  man  faintly  returned 
her  kiss ;  and  then,  with  a  smile  of  love  true  till  death,  she 
told  her  sons  to  take  their  father,  and  gently  carry  him  to 
the  foot  of  the  pole.  They  carefully  raised  him  up ;  but 
some  who  were  passing  by,  advised  them  to  lay  him  quietly 
down,  and  let  him  pass  away,  for  it  was  too  late.  But 
another  said,  there  was  yet  hope  ;  for  a  man  who  was  ap- 
parently dead,  opened  his  eyes',  and  looked,  and  was  cured. 
The  group  slowly  moved  on ;  the  wife  walking  by  his  side, 
praying  to  the  God  of  Israel  to  save  her  husband.  The 
Wandering  Arab  became  so  moved,  that  he  whisj)ereli ,  to  a 
brother,  "  The  old  man  is  almost  gone  ;  he  has  only  three 
breaths  to  draw ;  and  he  will  die  before  he  gets  to  the  pole." 
The  group  slowly  moved  on,  with  their  nearly  lifeless  bur- 


142  STRAY   LEAVES. 

don ;  tho  old  man  drew  one  more  breath  gaspini^ly,  and  then 
another,  which  histed  him  to  tho  foot  of  the  pole,  when  ho 
remained  without  moving,  in  the  arms  of  his  weeping  sons. 
The  Strange  Preacher  said  to  his  friend,  almost  loud  enough 
to  be  heard  by  others,  "  What  a  great  pity ;  it  is  all  over 
with  the  old  man  ;  he  is  dead  ;  he  is  dead."  But  no;  he  had 
one  more  breath  to  draw.  His  wife  kissed  him  again,  and 
he  opened  his  eyes  very  feebly ;  she  pointed  him  to  the  ser- 
pent ;  he  looked,  and  was  saved.  O,  my  soul  I  who  can 
describe  what  followed  ?  lie  was  cured  at  once  ;  and  sprang 
to  his  feet,  clapping  his  hands,  and  praising  God  aloud.  Ho 
threw  his  arms  around  the  neck  of  his  wife,  and  kissed  her. 
He  laughed  and  cried  aloud;  and  taking  up  the  bed  on 
which  he  had  been  borne,  ran  off  like  an  antelope,  through 
tho  camp,  praising  the  God  of  Israel. 

My  friends,  you  must  excuse  me  for  not  telling  you  tho 
effect  this  produced  on  the  congregation,  for  I  cannot.  Tho 
Strange  Preacher  shook  hands  with  some  in  the  altar,  and 
shouted  out,  "  Farewell  world,  I'm  bound  for  the  kingdom.'' 

One  more  i:)icture  connected  with  that  sermon,  and  I  will, 
for  a  while,  be  done  with  the  great  revivalist.  He  told  us 
of  the  great  change  which  takes  place  in  the  sinner,  who  has 
long  been  dead  in  transgression  and  sin,  when  he  looks  with 
faith  to  his  Saviour,  and  is  saved.  He  sj^oke  of  an  old  gray- 
headed  sinner  who  lived  in  the  District  in  which  he  was 
born,  who  had  lived  nearly  to  the  close  of  a  long  life  without 
hope  and  without  Christ  in  the  world.  His  wife  and  son 
were  God-fearing  Christians ;  but  he  was  very  wicked,  and 
all  hope  of  his  salvation  was  nearly  gone.  At  last  he  bocamo 
powerfully  convicted,  and  awful  horror  took  possession  of  his 
soul ;  then  he  cried  aloud  in  his  agony  and  asked  all  to  pray 
for  him ;  that  he  knew  there  was  no  salvation  for  him,  that 
his  day  of  graCvO  was  forever  gone,  for  he  had  committed  tho 
unpardonable  sin,  and  God  never  would  forgive  him.  Ho 
was  encouraged  to  look  to  the  Saviour  and  be  saved ;  but  he 
would  not  be  comforted,  but  continued  to  ask  others  to  pray 
for  him,  saying  he  knew  there  was  no  mercy  for  him — God 
would  never  forgive  so  great  a  sinner.  He  said,  if  he  ever 
got  religion  he  would  never  tell  any  one  about  it,  for  he  had 


THE   MIDNIGHT  CONVERSION.  143 

been  so  great  a  sinner  he  knew  none  would  believe  him. 
He  continued  in  that  state  a  long  time,  having  a  certain 
place  to  which  he  often  went  to  pray.  On  a  bright  moon- 
light night — after  midnight — feeling  worse  than^usual,  and 
being  afraid  to  go  to  sleep,  lest  he  should  be  lost  before 
morning,  he  got  up  and  went  to  the  old  place  to  pray  once 
more,  ere  he  should  die  and  go  to  hell,  where  he  expected  to 
be  before  sunrise.  He  was  all  alone ;  he  fell  upon  his  knees 
and  told  the  Lord  he  was  come  to  offer  his  last  prayer  before 
being  forever  lost ;  he  knew  his  sins  were  too  great  ever  to 
be  forgiven ;  but  he  prayed  God,  for  the  Saviour's  sake,  to 
have  mercy  on  him,  and  he  would  give  him  all  the  glory — ^^ 
keeping  back  none — that  even  then  at  that  hour,  he  would 
go  and  tell  his  neighbors — the  Major,  the  Squire,  cousin 
Mary,  and  all.  As  soon  as  the  last  promise  was  made,  his 
Saviour's  intercessions  prevailed,  and  light  broke  in  upon  his 
despairing  soul ;  his  sins  were  forgiven  and  he  was  happy  in 
his  Saviour's  love.  He  sprang  up  and  laughed  aloud  for  joy, 
and  cried  aloud,  "  I  have  found  the  Lord,"  and  ran  to  the 
house  and  awoke  his  wife  and  son,  and  told  them  the  glad 
news,  and  of  the  promise  which  he  had  made.  They  begged 
him  to  wait  till  morning,  but  he  would  not.  They  told  him 
there  was  a  heavy  cloud  gathering,  and  they  expected  a 
storm.  But  he  said  he  was  resolved  to  tell  the  neighbors 
that  night,  that  the  Lord  had  pardoned  his  sins.  So  he  told 
his  son  to  saddle  the  horse.  His  son  told  him  the  saddle  was 
not  at  home — he  would  have  to  wait — but  he  had  a  sheep- 
skin thrown  across  the  horse  and  was  off. 

Li  imagination  the  Strange  Preacher  saw  the  scene  pass 
before  him.  The  old  man  rode  off,  giving  vent  to  his  feel- 
ings in  loud  praise,  and  went  over  to  the  Doctor's  and  awoke 
the  family  and  asked  if  all  were  present,  but  was  told  there 
was  one  still  up  stairs  ;  he  wanted  him  present  too.  He  then 
told  them  that  he  had  found  the  Lord,  and  requested  them 
to  rejoice  with  him,  after  which  he  rode  off,  clapping  his 
hands  and  shouting.  He  then  went  to  the  Major's,  over  the 
creek,  and  aroused  the  whole  house.  The  circuit  preacher 
was  there,  but  though  sick,  he  had  to  rise  too.  He  told  them 
the  glorious  news  and  begged  them  to  exult  with  him.     He 


144  STRAY    LEAVES. 

then  ])roeceded  to  the  Squire's,  and  called  uj)  the  whole  fam- 
ily— the  old  grandmother  and  all,  and  clapped  his  hands  and 
shouted  until  the  woods  ran<^.  He  rode  oil'  bare-headed,  and 
went  on  to  the  last  place,  which  was  cousin  Mary's.  The 
old  horse  was  very  tired,  but  he  got  there  at  last.  There 
were  many  young  folks  there  who  had  set  up  very  late,  but 
were  then  fast  asleep,  and  it  was  some  time  before  he  could 
awake  them  ;  but  he  continued  to  call,  and  at  last  roused 
them  up,  told  them  who  he  was  and  what  had  brought  him 
at  that  late  hour ;  that  he  had  been  throughout  the  neigh- 
borhood to  tell  the  good  news.  All  were  present ;  even  the 
servants  had  come  to  find  out  the  cause  of  so  much  excite- 
ment— even  old  Cudjo  and  Maum  Hannah  were  there.  He 
told  them  the  joyful  tidings  and  begged  them  to  rejoice  with 
him,  and  they  rejoiced  with  him. 

Brother  Durant  was  through,  and  such  a  shout  was  never 
before  heard — such  a  sight  never  seen  at  that  camp-ground. 
Some  were  prostrate  in  and  around  the  altar,  praising  the 
Lord  aloud.  Mourners  came  up  by  hundreds ;  scores  were 
converted ;  and  the  Strange  Preacher  was  passing  through 
the  crowd  trying  to  sing — 

*'  I  want  to  live  a  Christian  here,  I  want  to  die  a  shouting, 
I  want  to  see  my  Saviour  near,  when  soul  and  body  are  parting. 

"  But  you  have  forgotten  to  tell  us  anything  more  about 
those  persons  in  their  little  vessels,  hugging  the  shore — keep- 
ing'always  in  sight  of  land — near  enough  to  speak  to  friends 
on  the  beach,  and  by  them  to  send  messages  of  love  to  those 
at  home.  Do  tell  us  what  became  of  them."  I  am  glad  you 
reminded  me.of  them,  for  I  had  almost  forgotten  them.  For 
a  while  every  thing  went  on  very  pleasantly ;  the  sky  was 
cloudless  and  the  water  beneath  bright  and  smooth ;  in  fact 
more  than  one  of  the  party  was  seen  to  look  in  nature's 
mirror  below.  Brothers  C,  and  H.,  and  E.,  and  S.  were 
among  those  who  were  more  daring,  and  ventured  farther 
from  land  than  the  rest.  As  time  passed  on  there  would  be 
a  little  ripple  on  the  deep — a  slight  agitation  in  the  water — 
nothing,  however,  to  alarm  the  most  faint-hearted.  Occa- 
sionally you  might  notice  that  the  wind  was  a  little  strong, 


GOING   OUT   TO   SEA.  145 

and  then  the  vessels  would  be  driven  a  little  farther  from 
land ;  and  then  those  who  were  more  daring  would  appear 
to  enjoy  it  very  much.  But  soon  the  blast  would  subside, 
and  all  become  calm.  I  noticed,  however,  that  when  Brother 
D.  had  got  some  distance  into  his  sermon,  that  the  Storm  King 
— to  use  a  remark  of  his — had  begun  to  rouse  himself,  and 
those  nearest  the  shore  seemed  a  little  uneasy ;  but  as  all 
was  right  I  thought  no  danger  need  be  apprehended.  The 
wind,  however,  continued  to  rise,  and  when  Brother  D.  was 
telling  us  of  the  aged  man  who  had  been  bitten  by  the  ser- 
pent, and  who,  when  about  to  draw  his  last  breath,  turned 
and  looked,  and  was  cured,  I  felt  that  the  Storm  King  had 
unfurled  his  banner  and  was  riding  triumphantly  on  the 
wind.  As  soon  as  I  had  recovered  somewhat  from  my  excite- 
ment, I  raised  my  spy-glass  and  looked  towards  the  shore — 
all  was  confusion  on  the  little  vessels.  I  merely  caught  sight 
of  Brother  C,  leading  the  way,  with  E.,  and  S.,  and  H.  close 
behind  him,  under  the  influence  of  a  very  strong  wind  that 
was  hurrying  them  on  to  the  bar  at  the  rate  of  thirty  miles 
to  the  hour.  The  other  little  barks  were  overturned,  and  the 
friends,  with  their  life-preservers  on,  were  making  desperate 
efforts  to  reach  the  beach.  But  when  we  were  told  of  the 
old  man  who  was  so  happily  converted,  and  who  had  rode 
bare-headed,  without  a  saddle,  to  let  his  friends  know  the 
glad  tidings ;  and  when  he  had  reached  the  last  house,  and 
cousin  Mary  and  Maum  Hannah  were  rejoicing  with  him,  I 
took  my  glass  and  turned  it  again  to  the  shore  ;  and  the  little 
barks,  with  C,  and  E.,  and  H,,  and  S.,  were  seen  far  over  the 
bar,  still  under  the  influence  of  a  tremendous  pressure.  Some 
time  after,  a  vessel  returning  said  the  little  vessels  had  passed 
them,  and  the  passengers  had  requested  them  to  say  to  their 
friends  at  home,  that  they  were  well  provisioned  and  all  was 
right,  though  it  would  be  many  days  before  they  could  return. 
Farewell,  for  a  while  to  H.  H.  Durant,  the  great  revivalist 
of  the  South  Carolina  Conference^ — the  famous  man  for  pro- 
tracted and  camp-meetings — who  did  so  much  good  in  his 
day  and  time,  and  who  was  said,  in  one  year  of  his  ministry, 
to  have  taken  more  than  a  thousand  persons  into  the  church. 
Farewell,  dear  brother  of  my  soul,    May  we  meet  in  heaven. 


y 


LEAF  THE  TWENTY-THIRD. 

A    MEMENTO    TO    MY    DEAR    DEPARTED    IJROTIIER   IN    CHRIST,  REV. 

W.   C.    KIRKLAND THE     MAN    WHOM  THE    CHURCH    AND    THE 

WORLD    LOVED. 

Art  thou  gone  to  the  Jerusalem  above,  thou  long-tried  and 
ever-true  friend  of  my  soul  ?  If  I  should  neglect  to  say 
something  of  thee,  while  dwelling  on  the  scenes  of  my  past 
life,  I  would  feel  that  I  had  done  wrong  to  thy  memory,  and 
to  the  very  strong  affection  that  existed  between  us.  Never 
can  I  forget  W.  C.  Kirkland,  one  of  the  most  upright  of  men 
— one  of  the  purest  of  Christians.  To  know^  him  well  was  to 
love  him  much.  I  remember  him  even  before  he  began  to 
preach.  I  remember  so  well  when  I  saw  him  for  the  last 
time — I  went  with  him  to  Bamberg,  where  he  took  the 
train  for  Spartanburg.  We  never  met  again ;  for  he  w^as 
called  soon  after,  to  enter  the  rest  which  remaineth  for  the 
people  of  God.  We  had,  for  many  years,  called  each  other, 
David  and  Jonathan — and  truly  was  he  the  Jonathan  of  my 
soul. 

He  was  born  in  Barnwell  District,  near  Buford's  Bridge, 
where  many  of  his  relatives  and  friends  still  live.  His  man- 
ner was  80  kind  and  prepossessing,  that  you  always  felt  at 
home  while  with  him.  To  a  member  of  the  church,  who 
knew  him  well — if  cast  down  and  depressed — a  friendly 
shake  of  Brother  K.'s  hand,  was  like  water  to  the  thirsty 
traveller.  But  the  true  friend,  the  pure  Christian,  the  good 
preacher,  the  brave  knight  of  the  cross,  has  gone  "  where 
the  wicked  cease  from  troubling,  and  the  weary  are  at 
rest." 

He  did  much  service  to  the  church  and  the  world ;  he  bore 
the  heat  of  many  summer,  and  the  cold  of  many  winter, 
(^lays — preaching  to  all  of  religion  and  of  heaven.  He  did 
much  good  by  his  ministry,  but  more  by  his  private  walk 
and  conversation.  I  suspect  few  ever  did  as  much  service  to 
the  cause,  out  of  the  pulpit,  as  he  did ;  for  the  Holy  Spirit 


THE   HOUSE  WITHOUT  A  SHED-EOOM.  147 

seemed  to  be  always  present  with  him.  His  whole  life  was 
as  "  sweet  ointment  poured  out."  He  was  also  much  res- 
pected and  loved  by  members  of  other  branches  of  the 
church.  In  some  places,  I  suppose,  he  had  as  many  Baptist 
as  Methodist  friends  ;  and  his  name  will  long  be  remembered 
by  hundreds  on  the  many  circuits  which  he  travelled,  from 
the  mountain  to  the  ,  sea-shore.  He  was  ready  always  "  to 
rejoice  with  those  who  rejoiced,  and  to  weep  with  those  who 
wept."  But  why  should  I  attempt  to  say»more  of  him  who 
was  so  well  known  and  loved  in  these  lands  ? 

Years  ago,  while  he  was  travelling  the  long  and  laborious 
Barnwell  circuit,  by  his  urgent  request,  I  went  to  help  him 
hold  a  two  days'  meeting  at  a  place  called  Concord,  where 
those  true  friends  of  the  church  lived — Brothers  Spann,  Barr, 
and  Smith,  and  others.  It  was  my  first  visit  to  the  j^lace ; 
and  the  road  was  a  long,  weary  one.  Did  any  of  you,  my 
friends,  ever  pass  that  route,  and  feel  like  saying  to  your- 
self, "  somewhat  like  this  is  the  way  to  glory ;  for  they  say, 
'Jordan  is  a  hard  road  to  travel?'"  I  acknowledge  that  I 
more  than  once  had  such  thoughts ;  but  brother  "Jonathan" 
had  charged  me  to  be  there,  and  had  promised  me  a  large 
congregation.  It  was  very  unpleasant  travelling ;  for  it  was 
just  after  a  heavy  rain,  and  the  weather  was  very  warm. 
The  road  was  filled  with  water,  and  was  in  places  even  boggy. 
I  crossed  the  Edisto  at  Gunter's  Bridge ;  but  the  church  was 
many  miles  from  the  river.  Late  in  the  evening,  I  got  to  a 
brother's  house — a  small  affair.  I  soon  found  out  with  regret 
that  there  was  no  shed-room  to  it  for  the  preacher.  I  had 
been  expected  by  the  family,  and  was  told  I  had  to  preach 
that  night — that  Brother  K.  had  appointed  the  meeting,  and 
that  he  had  told  them  I  was  fond  of  night  meetings,  and 
would  not  disappoint  them.  The  Wandering  Arab  will 
never  forget  that  time ;  but  not  for  the  great  outpouring  of 
the  Spirit — not  because  he  fired  off  a  big  gun,  and  swung 
clear — not  for  the  conviction  of  sinners,  for  the  reclaiming  of 
backsliders,  or  for  the  conversion  of  mourners.  ''  For  what,' 
say  you.  I  will  tell  you  presently — only  hold  on  a  little. 
I  will  not  now  say  unto  you,  as  Antony  did  over  the  body  of 
the  great  Cassar — "  If  you  have  tears,  prepare  to  shed  them 


148  STRAY    LEAVES. 

now;"  but  1  "svill  say,  if  you  ever  did  enjoy  a  jolce  on  the 
War  Preacher,  prc])are  to  do  ho  now. 

The  nii^ht  came — that  short  summer  nii^ht — but,  O  !  how 
I  wished  it  eliorter  than  it  was.  The  small  congrciration 
had  assembled.  Friends,  arc  any  of  you  fond  of  smoking? 
Do  you  lovo  the  smell  of  a  strong  old  pipe,  which  has  often 
been  used,  but  not  often  cleaned  ?  Now,  between  you  and 
me,  I  am  well  acquainted  with  a  preacher  who  cannot  endui'o 
it,  but  who  would  almost  prefer  taking  a  dose  of  salts  any 
time,  than  have  to  smell  for  ten  minutes  a  strong  old  pipe. 
So  you  may  form  some  faint  idea  how  the  parson  felt,  when 
he  found  out  he  would  have  to  bear  the  scent  of  at  least 
twenty  pipes  at  once.  But  so  it  was ;  for  as  soon  as  the 
little  crowd  got  into  the  house  and  sat  down,  each  one  pulled 
out  his  old  pipe,  got  ready,  and  went  to  work.  It  was  then 
all  over  with  the  Strange  Preacher.  He  had  been  thinking 
what  he  should  preach  from,  and  had  selected  one  of  his 
favorite  subjects ;  and  he  had  prepared  some  pictures  with 
which  he  thought  some  of  his  friends  would  be  pleased.  But 
when  he  found  he  had  to  face  the  fire  and  the  smell  of 
twenty  pipes,  ho  struck  his  flag  at  once ;  there  was  no 
preaching  in  him.  Have  any  of  you  ever  heard  what  may 
be  called  a  ten  cents'  sermon  ?  There  was  one  preached  that 
night,  and  no  niistake.  The  parson  Avaited  for  the  smokers 
to  stop,  that  he  might  begin ;  but  no,  they  smoked  on.  Ho 
opened  and  closed  his  hymn  book  and  Bible ;  but  they 
smoked  on.  He  then  moved,  and  drew  up  his  feet,  as  if 
ready  to  rise ;  but  all  in  vain,  they  smoked  on.  He  cleared 
his  throat,  and  spat  on  the  floor;  but  they  smoked  on.  The 
Strange  Preacher  was  almost  in  despair.  He  drew  out  his 
watch  once  or  twice,  w^ith  a  quick,  sudden  jerk,  as  if  the  last 
moment  had  come  ;  but  all  to  no  purpose,  the  twenty  old 
pipes  smoked  on,  as  if  for  life  and  death.  The  parson  then 
made  another  pretence,  as  if  going  to  rise — he  pushed  the 
table  a  little  from  him,  and  holding  the  open  book  in  one  hand, 
rose  almost  half  from  his  seat,  and  then  turned  his  despairing 
eyes ;  but  out  rolled  the  smoke  from  those  twenty  old  pipes, 
as  if  from  as  many  little  furnaces ;  and  the  smokers  smoked 
on,  as  if  the  ransom  of  a  captive  prince  depended  on  their 


THE   TWENTY   SMOKERS.  149 

doing  their  best.  Alas,  for  the  Wandering  Arab!  he  felt 
that  it  was  all  over  with  him,  and  he  said  to  himself,  "  If  I 
ever  preach  again,  it  shall  not  be  from  any  of  my  favorites  ; 
I  will  draw  no  pictures  to-night."  He  resumed  his  seat,  and 
felt  sad  at  heart ;  and  he  was  well  satisfied  that  if  his  Brother 
"Jonathan"  had  only  known  how  the  case  was  to  be,  he 
w^ould  not  have  left  an  appointment  for  his  '"David,"  at  that 
place.  He  tjien  beckoned  a  brother,  and  asked  him,  in  a 
whisper,  if  those  smokers  would  smoke  on  during  preaching. 
"  No,"  said  he,  "  but  they  will  go  on  till  you  commence." 
The  parson  then  sprang  to  his  feet,  gave  out  the  hymn,  and 
the  twenty  smokers  stopped  as  if  moved  hy  the  same  im- 
pulse ;  and  a  very  short  sermon  was  then  preached  ;  and, 
even  in  those  days,  when  money  was  so  plentiful,  I  doubt  if 
it  was  Avorth  more  than  ten  cents.  The  benediction  was 
pronounced,  and  soon  the  smokers  were  at  it  again. 

But  it  is  bed-time  now ;  and  there  is  no  little  shed-room 
for  the  parson  ;  and  some  few  of  the  smokers  still  remained. 
The  long  ride,  and  those  twenty  pipes,  had  worn  me  out 
entirely ;  so  I  thought  I  must  go  to  bed — shed-room  or  no 
shed-room.  I  whispered  to  the  brother,  and  asked  him,  how 
I  should  proceed.  "  O  ! "  said  he,  "  the  old  woman  is  in  the 
kitchen  now,  that's  your  chance ;  but  you  had  better  be  in 
a  hurry,  or  she'll  be  back  before  you  are  through."  The 
preacher  partly  undressed.  He  had  not  time  to  wind  his 
watch ;  and  he  oifered  up  a  little  five  cents'  prayer,  and  sprang 
into  bed.  His  head  had  hardly  touched  the  little  pillow, 
before  back  came  the  old  woman.  It  was  some  time  before 
he  could  sleep;  and  he  said  to  himself,  "I  love  Brother  'Jon- 
athan' too  much,  not  to  make  an  effort  at  improvement  here, 
for  his  sake." 

Morning  came ;  there  was  a  long  ride  yet  before  the  par- 
son; he  therefore  made  an  early  start.  The  sun  had  just 
risen  ;  and  Grunter's  Bridge  and  the  Edisto  were  not  far  off. 
The  brother  went  a  short  way,  to  give  the  preacher  the 
right  direction ;  and  when  about  to  separate,  the  preacher 
asked  to  be  permitted  to  give  a  little  advice.  He  entreated 
him  to  endeavor  to  lay  hold  on  eternal  life ;  and  spoke  of 
the  joys  of  heaven,  and  said  he  hoped  he  would  meet  him 


150  STRAY   LEAVES. 

thoro.  The  brotlier  wept,  and  gave  the  parpon  a  parting 
grasp.  And  the  preacher,  as  if  he  had  just  thought  of  it, 
said,  "Brother,  we  have  not  yet  got  to  glory,  but  are  Btill  in 
thin  vale  of  tears  ;  so  wo  should  attempt  to  make  our  friends 
comfortable  when  they  come  to  see  us.  If  I  ever  pass  by 
here  again,  I' hope  I  will  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  another 
room  to  your  house.  Farewell ;  let  us  meet  in  heaven."  I 
then  rode  off  a  little  way,  when  I  stopped,  and  Jooked  back. 
The  early  sun  was  not  far  above  the  forest  trees,  and  Gun- 
ter's  Bridjre  and  the  Edisto  not  far  off.  But  there  still  stood 
the  good  brother,  gazing  at  the  Strange  Preacher,  with  a 
look  that,  even  at  that  distance,  seemed  to  say,  "  while  life 
lasts,  I  will  not  forget  you  ;  and  if  you  ever  pass  here  again, 
you  shall  see  the  room."  Once  again,  in  my  roving  life,  I 
crossed  at  Gunter's  Bridge ;  and  when  I  came  in  sight  of  the 
house,  there  was  the  shed-room. 

I  reached  Concord,  and  felt  more  than  repaid  for  my  long 
ride,  and  for  having  to  face  the  twenty  smokers,  when  I  felt 
Brother  "  Jonathan's"  warm  grasp,  and  heard  him  say,  "  My 
dear  Brother  '  David,'  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you ; "  and  then  to 
have  been  introduced  to  such  good  men  as  Brothers  Spann, 
Barr,  Smith,  and  others ;  and  to  have  enjoyed  with  them  a 
good  meeting. 

Another  meeting  I  attended  with  Brother  Kirkland,  was 
at  Buford's  Bridge,  where  there  was  a  time  of  refreshing 
from  the  presence  of  the  Lord.  I  expect  alwaj^s  to  remem- 
ber how  Brother  K.  preached,  and  prayed,  and  sung — how 
he  seemed  full  of  heav.enly  thoughts  when  he  told  us  of  the 
Saviour's  love  for  a  lost,  ruined  world.  Never  mind  what  the 
text  was,  whether,  "  Moses  said  unto  Ilobab,  come  thou  and 
go  with  us ;"  or,  "  With  one  accord,  in  one  place ;"  or,  Moses  to 
the  Lord,  "We  will  not  go  hence  unless  thy  presence  go  with 
us  ; "  or,  about  the  old  and  the  young  prophet — the  Spirit  of 
the  Lord  was  always  present  with  him ;  and  ho  preached  from 
the  heart  to  the  heart.  He  sometimes  looked,  as  if  his  gaze 
was  on  the  other  side  of  the  flood,  in  the  sweet  fiekls  of 
Eden.  I  have  seen  three  preachers  in  my  life,  whose  faces 
while  in  the  pulpit,  excited  mo  more  than  all  others ;  and  if 
those  men  stood  before  me,  even  if  they  remained  silent, 


WORKING   FOR  OTHER  CHURCHES.  151 

I  would  enjoy  myself  more  than  while  listening  to  well- 
arranged  sermons  from  some  men  I  have  heard.  Those 
preachers  were — Bishop  Capers,  Brother  McPhail,  and  W.  C. 
Kirkland.  I  could  never  look  at  them  long,  without  wish- 
ing that  I  was  as  well  prepared  for  heaven  through  grace, 
as  I  thought  they  were.  Brother  K.  told  us  of  his  boyhood, 
of  the  days  spent  with  his  relatives  and  friends  in  that 
neighborhood^  and  of  his  dear  departed  father,  whom  ho 
knew  would  welcome  him  to  heaven.  At  times,  he  would 
clap  his  hands,  and  cry  out  "glory!"  making  you  think, 
while  looking  at  him,  that  you  almost  saw  the  face  of  an 
angel. 

I  remember  Sunday  night  as  being  the  best  time  we  had. 
Then  the  holy  man  was  trans2)orted  with  delight,  for  he  saw 
some  dear  ones  coming  up  for  his  prayers,  and  he  prayed  as 
if  he  had  hold  of  the  horns  of  the  altar ;  and  when  he  arose 
from  his  knees,  he  began  to  sing,  "  I  feel  the  work  reviving, 
reviving  in  my  soul ; "  or,  "  Our  bondage  it  will  end,  by  and 
bye;"  or,  "Where  now  are  the  Hebrew  children."  I- have 
often  enjoyed  myself  very  much  at  Mizpah ;  but  never  as 
much  as  when  I  worshipped  the  Lord  there,  with  the  Jona- 
than of  my  soul — the  pure,  the  heavenly -minded  W.  C.  Kirk- 
land. 

Another  meeting  I  attended  with  him,  at  Barnwell  court- 
house. "  There  !"  do  you  say,  "  where  you  have  no  church  ?" 
Yes,  there  it  was.  Did  you  know  that  holy  woman,  one  of 
the  sweet  singers  of  Israel — sister  T.  ?  I  met  Brother  K. 
there  many  years  ago ;  but  that  good  woman  has  since  gone 
to  heaven.  It  was  the  hour  of  private  prayer,  and  we  retired 
to  our  room,  and  bowed  our  knees  before  the  throne  of 
grace,  and  spent  some  time  in  silent  devotion.  We  arose ; 
one  said  to  the  other,  "  Brother,  it  has  just  occurred  to  me, 
that  we  ought  to  have  a  protracted  meeting  here."  The 
other  replied,  that  he  had  been  thinking  of  the  same  thing. 
So  it  was  agreed  upon.  We  had  no  hope  of  having  any  addi- 
tion to  our  church  ;  but  thought  it  would  help  our  Baptist  and 
Presbyterian  friends.  One  of  us  remarked,  that  we  would 
preach  and  pray ;  but  would  not  open  the  door,  as  we  did 
not  expect  any  members.     We  left  our  room,  feeling  happy 


152  STRAY   LEAVES. 

in  our  bouIs.  Sister  T.  looked  as  if  she  could  almost  guess 
wtiat  wo  had  been  talking  about.  Wo  told  her,  and  re- 
quested her  to  announce  the  meeting  for  us.  She  asked  if 
wo  expected  to  get  any  members  there.  We  replied,  no ;  but 
we  thought  it  would  help  the  other  churches.  She  said,  she 
expected  it  would. 

The  time  for  our  meeting  came ;  and  the  ministers  were 
there  ready  to  begin  the  good  work.  We  did  not  expect  any 
members,  but  hoped  we  would  help  others — that  shows  you, 
friends,  what  kind  of  a  spii'it  possessed  W.  C.  Kirkland.  I 
never  knew  him  Ito  abor  more  diligently,  or  i>ray  with  great- 
er power,  or  preach  with  more  unction — not  expecting  one 
member.  He  still  continued  to  work,  not  for  himself,  but 
others ;  while  devils  were  no  doubt  astonished,  and  the  holy 
angels  regarded  him  approvingly,  because  they  had  seen  few 
such  men.  O,  my  soul !  what  a  gracious  meeting  we  had ; 
and  how  much  Brothers  D.,  B.,  and  A.  enjoyed  themselves. 
And  sisters  T.  and  A.  looked,  at  times,  as  if  they  were  listen- 
ing to  the  harps  of  heaven.  The  Holy  One  of  Israel  was 
graciously  present;  and  Brother  K.  shouted  aloud  "glory;" 
and  the  Strange  Preacher  shook  hands  with  his  Baptist  and 
Presbyterian  brethren,  and  requested  them  to  meet  him  in 
heaven.  Our  Baptist  Brother  B.  asked  why  we  did  not 
open  the  door ;  and  said  he  thought  we  would  like  to  do  so. 
Brother  K.  replied,  that  "  we  would  do  so  every  day,  if  we 
expected  any  members ;  but  we  will  not  open  the  door  here,  as 
this  meeting  is  for  you  and  the  Presbyterians ;"  and  Brother 
B.,  with  a  smile  I  can  never  forget,  said,  "we  are  very 
much  obliged  to  you ;  but  I  would  like  to  see  you  get  some 
help  for  your  own  church."  "  O  !  never  mind,"  said  Brother 
K.,  "we  are  working  for  the  Lord."  And  the  Strange 
Preacher  then  thought  to  himself,  that  he  could  almost  hear 
the  Saviour  say  to  the  angels,  "  that  is  a  man  after  my  own 
heart." 

The  meeting  continued  for  two  weeks — Brother  B.  every 
now  and  then  asking  us  to  open  the  door  of  our  church ; 
and  to  please  him.  Brother  K.  consented  to  do  so,  telling  him 
what  would  be  the  result.     No  one  joined. 

Such  a  preacher  was  W.  C.  E.irkland.     AVhere  can  we  find 


FAREWELL   TO   W.    C.    KIRKLAND.  153 

another  like  him  ?  Farewell !  dear  brother  of  my  soul ;  if  I 
ever  felt  glad  to  see  you  on  earth,  how  much  more  will  I  re- 
joice to  meet  you  in  heaven  1  From  my  heart,  I  believe  I 
would  have  loved  my  Saviour  more  truly,  more  devotedly, 
and  that  I  would  have  served  him  more  faithfully  than  I 
have"  done,  if  I  could  have  been  blessed  with  that  good 
man's  prayers  and  advice  more  than  I  was.  I  have  often 
done  and  said  things,  for  which  I  have  been  sorry  after- 
wards, which  I  think  never  would  have  happened,  if  I  could 
have  always  been  with  him.  I  believe  1  would  enjoy  more 
of  heaven  than  I  now  expect  to  when  I  get  there,  if  the 
Jonathan  of  my  soul  had  been  with  me  more.  Farewell ! 
much-loved  brother ;  heaven  gained  all  of  what  earth  lost, 
when  you  left  us.  I  was  much  benefitted  by  being  so  often 
with  you.  Alas !  for  me ;  I  am  afraid  I  sometimes  grieved 
the  blessed  Spirit,  and  made  my  guardian  angel  almost  wee]), 
because  thou  wast  not  always  with  me.  Farewell !  dear  bro- 
ther; I  have  missed  thee  much,  and  think  of  thee  often. 
Through  grace,  I  hope  to  meet  you  at  last,  in  the  green 
fields  of  Eden,  on  the  other  side  of  the  flood. 

"  Thou  art  gone  to  the  grave — but  we  will  not  deplore  thee ; 
Though  sorrow  and  darkness  encompass  the  tomb  ; 
Thy  Saviour  has  passed  through  its  portals  before  thee, 
And  the  lamp  of  his  love  is  thy  guide  through  the  gloom. 

*'  Thou  art  gone  to  the  grave — we  no  longer  behold  thee, 

Nor  tread  the  rough  paths  of  the  world  by  thy  side  ; 

But  the  wide  arms  of  mercy  are  spread  to  enfold  thee, 

And  sinners  may  hope,  since  the  sinless  have  died." 


10 


LEAF  THE  TWENTY-FOURTH. 

REMARKAIU.E    DREAMS. 

From  these  Stray  Leaves  my  friends  must  have  learned 
that  the  Strange  Preacher  puts  more  faith  in  dreams  than 
some  people  do.  I  know  that  many  nightly  visions  are  vain 
and  foolish,  and  some  of  them  I  know  are  very  wicked ;  but 
I  do  believe  there  are  others  direct  from  heaven.  How  do 
you  account  for  the  one  in  which  I  was  told  that  L)r.  S. 
should  join  the  church;  and  the  one  about  the  black-eyed 
young  man  on  my  first  visit  to  Eock  Springs  ?  Both  came 
to  pass.  And  I  pledge  my  word  for  them,  and  any  others  I 
may  relate.  Why  should  not  dreams  and  visions  be  direct 
from  the  Lord  in  these  days  as  well  as  in  olden  times,  when 
the  New  TestaJiicnt  spoke  of  such  things  ?  We  are  told  that 
in  the  last  days  we  shall  see  visions  and  dream  dreams. 

When  I  was  almost  of  age,  I  became  very  much  cast  down 
and  depressed,  and  was  possessed  with  the  thought  that  I 
had  not  long  to  live ;  that  I  would  soon  pass  from  earth  to 
groat  eternity.  I  knew  I  was  not  prepared,  which  convic- 
tion added  to  my  distress,  and  my  feelings  were  indescribable. 
One  night,  during  this  time,  I  had  the  following  dream,  one 
which  I  think  was  from  the  Lord.  I  saw  the  Saviour  of  the 
world  ,  who  stood  near  me,  and  said  to  me,  "  You  expect  to 
die  soon,  but  you  ^^:i\[  not;  you  will  join  the  Methodist 
church  before  you  die.  Be  thou  faithful  till  death,  and  thou 
shalt  have  a  crown  of  life."*  I  became  quite  alarmed  and 
was  in  great  distress,  dnd  thought  my  last  hour  had  come. 
I  remained  thus  for  awhile,  but  alas  !  for  poor  human  nature, 
my  sad  thoughts  soon  left  me;  I  went  on  in  my  wicked 
course. 

Now,  some  persons  may  say,  that  was  the  reason  you 
joined  the  Methodist  church;  but  I  assure  you  I  did  not 
think  of  the  dream  until  some  time  afterwards.  I  suspect  if 
I  had  thought  of  it  at  that  time  I  would  have  joined  more 
willingly,  if  possible,  than  1  did.     This  dream  seems  to  me 


A   DREAM   OF   HEAVEN.  155 

very  strange,  unless  we  consider  it  as  coming  directly  from 
God. 

Many  years  ago,  the  summer  my  father  died,  I  had  rup- 
tured a  blood  vessel,  and  was  quite  weak  for  some  time. 
While  in  that  condition  I  often  felt  the  Lord  jDrecious  to  my 
soul.  But  let  me  tell  you  first  of  something  which  happened 
years  before  this,  that  might  have  had  something  to  do  in 
bringing  about  the  sweet  vision  I  had  at  that  time. 

When  1  first  joined  the  church  some  of  my  relatives  were 
much  surprised  and  mortified.  There  was  one  who  appeared 
more  so  than  the  others ;  who  once  told  me,  in  the  presence 
of  several  others,  that  I  had  acted  shamefully,  disgracing  the 
whole  family  ;  that  if  I  ever  got  to  heaven,  where  my  mother 
was,  she  would  not  recognize  or  acknowledge  me  as  her  son. 
This  distressed  me  very  much,  more  than  language  can  tell. 

Many  years  after,  I  had  the  following  dream:  My  hour  of 
death  had  come — the  last  hour  of  my  stay  upon  earth.  I 
bade  farewell  to  all  present,  wife  and  children,  and  others, 
and  I  thought  my  haj^py  spirit  took  its  flight  for  the  eternal 
world.  At  last  I  thought  I  entered  the  Jerusalem  above — the 
eternal  home  of  the  ransomed  of  the  Lord.  The  golden 
gates  being  thrown  open,  I  saw  the  Everlasting  Father  on 
the  throne  with  the  Son  and  Holy  Spirit.  I  fell  prostrate, 
and  after  a  while  I  heard  a  voice  from  the  throne,  which 
said,  "  Show  him  his  name ;"  and  I  saw  written  in  golden 
letters,  "LUCIUS  BELLINGER,  a  sinner  saved  by  grace." 
Then  I  heard  a  holy  song  in  the  palace  of  the  Eternal,  "  glory 
be  to  God !  the  dead  is  alive,  the  lost  is  found,  and  the  prod- 
igal has  come  home  to  his  Father.  Welcome  home  to  heaven 
brother."  And  then  I  heard  a  voice  from  the  throne  again! 
"  go,  crown  him  now ;"  and  then  a  sj^irit  came  and  bound  my 
head  with  a  wreath  of  glory.  And  still  the  song  went  on, 
*'  glory  to  the  Lord !  the  dead  is  alive  and  the  lost  is  found, 
and  the  prodigal  has  returned.  Welcome  home  to  heaven  ! 
brother,"  And  on  the  left  hand,  I  heard  the  rustling  of 
wings  ;  the  sound  came  nearer  still — it  came  up  to  me.  The 
wings  were  folded  upon  the  breast,  and  the  spirit  stooped 
down  and  kissed  me  on  the  left  cheek,  and  a  voice  spoke, 
"  Welcome  home  to  heaven !  my  Methodist  son  ;  I  am  so  glad 


156  STRAY    LEAVES. 

to  HOC  you.  1  was  your  mother,  my  son,  in  yonder  world  ;  1 
have  been  your  guardian  angel  ever  since  I  died.  Weleomo 
home!  my  son."  And  once  again  that  holy  Hong  wan  heard, 
•'glory  bo  to  God!  the  dead  is  alive,  the  lost  is  found,  and 
the  prodigal  has  come  home  to  his  Father.  Welcome  home 
to  heaven !  brother." 

I  -vvoke  up  transported  with  pleasure,  and  I  wished  for 
awhile,  very  much  to  go  to  heaven,  to  see  that  mother  at 
once.  I  love  to  think  of  that  dream  more  than  all  the  man}^ 
I  have  had.  O,  my  blessed  Saviour,  I  thank  thee  even  to  this 
day  for  that  blessed  vision  of  the  night.  O,  that  my  mother 
may  be  the  first  of  the  ransomed  of  earth  to  welcome  mo 
upon  the  banks  of  eternal  deliverance. 

Some  sixteen  years  ago  last  fall,  I  think,  my  wife  paid  a 
visit  to  some  of  her  relatives  in  Greorgia,  and  w^as  absent  sev- 
eral wrecks.  Before  she  told  me  "  good-bye,"  she  said  she 
had  a  request  to  make,  and  I  must  grant  it  before  I  knew 
what  it  was.  I  had  no  idea  what  it  could  be,  but  I  told  her  I 
would  do  so.  She  then  told  me  that  she  wished  me  to  stay 
at  home  until  her  return  ;  I  must  have  no  appointments,  and 
must  not  visit  my  neighbors.  I  told  her  I  had  appointments 
out  already.  -She  said  I  must  not  fill  them.  She  wanted 
me  to  do  this,  that  1  might  form  some  idea  of  how  she  felt 
during  my  absence  ;  she  wanted  me  to  be  situated  only  once, 
as  she  was  so  very  often.  My  word  was  out,  and  I  had  to 
stand  to  it.  I  faced  the  fire,  but  O,  what  a  cross  I  found 
that  promise.  It  was  a  time  never  to  be  forgotten.  The 
War  Preacher  at  home,  and  good  meetings  going  on  within 
reach,  none  of  which  he  could  attend.  The  sound  of  the 
raging  battle,  the  shouting  of  the  captives,  the  waving  of 
the  flags  not  far  off,  and  the  preacher  at  home,  like  the  war 
horse  tied  to  the  stake,  while  the  great  battle  is  being 
fought  before  him !  The  preacher,  kept  at  home  by  his 
promise,  longed  for  one  day  of  freedom,  that  he  might  strike 
one  brave  blow  by  the  side  of  Brothers  Kirkland,  Mouzon, 
Eaysor,  Yarn  and  others;  but  it  could  not  be.  I  hope  I  may 
never  be  so  situated  again.  When  my  wife  returned,  and 
found  out  what  a  cross  it  had  been,  she  said  she  was  sorry 
she  had  made  the  request. 


TPIE   RESURRECTION   BODY.  157 

While  I  was  passing  through  that  great  trial  I  became 
cast  down  and  depressed ;  I  was  in  the  depth  of  tho, valley. 
One  night  I  had  the  following  dream :  Two  very  beautiful 
golden  winged  spirits,  in  the  bright  robes  of  immortality 
stood  by  my  side.  One  of  them  touched  me  and  roused  me 
up,  and  said,  "  Brother,  I  have  come  to  show  you  your  res- 
urrection body."  I  looked,  and  very  near  me  was  one  of  the 
most  noble  and  sublime  forms  that  the  eye  of  imagination 
had  ever  witnessed.  I  was  transported  with  delight.  I  was 
told  that  when  I  rose  from  the  grave  that  was  to  be  the  body 
I  was  to  have.  I  asked  one  of  the  spirits  who  he  was.  He 
said  he  was  my  brother  AViliiam,  who  died  when  he  was  a 
little  boy.  He  smiled  on  me  so  kindly,  and  told  me  that  my 
Father  in  heaven  had  sent  him  to  comfort  me,  and  to  show 
me  my  resurrection  body.  I  asked  him  if  he  meant  m}^ 
earthly  father.  He  said  no,  he  did  not  mean  him,  though 
he  left  him  in  heaven ;  that  he  meant  my  Heavenly  Father. 
During  all  this  time  the  other  spirit  said  nothing;  but  every 
now  and  then  she  smiled  sweetly,  and  shook  her  golden 
locks,  and  looked  on  me  lovingly  with  her  blue  eyes.  I  said, 
''  Brother,  who  is  that  by  your  side  ?"  He  said  it  was  my 
sister  Eebecca.  I  thought  she  looked  a  little  sad,  as  she 
said,  "  O,  brother  Lucius,  have  you  forgotten  me  ?"  I  re- 
plied, "  O,  no,  I  have  never  forgotten  j^ou."  She  then  bent 
over  and  gave  me  a  sweet  kiss  ;  and  both  said  that  my  Heav- 
enly Father  had  sent  them  to  comfort  me,  and  that  my 
earthly  father,  too,  was  in  heaven. 

Many  years  ago  I  was  at  a  meeting  in  the  bounds  of  the 
Barnwell  circuit.  We  had  a  gracious  time.  On  Sunday 
night  I  staj^ed  at  a  good  brother's  house.  Some  time  ^fter 
I  had  lain  down,  1  dreamed  that  we  had  a  very  fine  time  the 
next  day ;  that  a  gentleman  whom  I  thought  much  of,  had 
knelt  for  prayer,  and  before  I  got  through  preaching,  (I  re- 
membered what  I  was  speaking  about)  a  voice  near  by  my 
side  said,  ''  Mind  you,  that  is  for  the  Major."  I  got  very 
happy,  and  shouted  aloud  in  my  sleep,  and  was  roused  up  by 
the  brother,  in  the  next  room,  calling  to  me  and  requesting 
me  to  stop,  as  I  was  making  a  great  noise  and  disturbing 
him  and  his  wife.  '  I  told  them  in  the  morning  why  I  had 


158  STRAY   LEAVES. 

rejoiced  bo,  and  that  1  l)elieved  finiil}'  it  Avoidd  como  to  pass. 
I  told  them  I  remembered  how  I  finished  my  sermon,  and 
the  voice  said,  "  .^^illd,  tliat's  for  the  Major;"  and  I  expected 
him  to  come  up.  The  good  brother  looked  as  if  he  did  not 
place  much  confidence  in  it.  AVo  went  to  the  church  and 
vro  had  a  gracious  season  in  pi-ayer  meeting,  at  the  close  of 
which  he  came  to  me  and  remarked,  he  believed  then  it 
would  come  to  pass.  AVhat  say  you  to  that,  friends?  Our 
faith  had  now  united  in  the  same  thing. 

Before  leaving  the  house  I  told  him,  that  the  night  before  I 
wa^J  standing  on  a  step  when  the  man  knelt  down.  I  preach- 
ed the  sermon.  The  good  Spirit  was  present,  and  mourners 
were  called  up.  I  was  standing  in  the  altar  waiting  for 
them ;  the  man  had  not  yet  come  up,  but  I  w^as  expecting 
him.  I  turned  and  went  and  stood  on  the  steps  of  the  pulpit 
as  if  going  in  ;  my  hand  was  on  the  door.  I  turned  round 
and  looked  at  the  man  I  had  seen  the  night  before.  The 
Major  then  came  up  and  knelt  for  prayer — his  wife  with 
him.  The  preacher  was  cut  loose  from  his  moorings,  and 
lost  all  self-control.  I  wish  brother  James  Ilutto  and  his 
wife  were  now  alive  to  tell  you  that  it  was  at  their  house  I 
had  the  dream. 

My  father  never  heard  me  preach  but  once,  and^  that  ser- 
mon I  had  preached  to  him  years  before,  while  asleep.  I 
once  dreamed  that  my  father  came  to  me  as  I  was  going  in, 
or  coming  out  of  the  pulpit,  and  said  to  me,  "  My  son,  from 
what  are  you  going  to  preach,"  or  "what  have  you  preached 
from  ?"  I  replied,  from  Psalm  xciv,  16.  He  asked  me  how 
I  had  managed,  or  how  I  was  going  to  do  it.  I  told  him  how, 
and  he  replied,  it  was  better  than  he  had  expected,  and  that 
he  would  like  to  hear  it  again.  Some  years  after  I  preached 
my  first  and  only  sermon  before  him — using  the  same  text. 

Perhaps  there  are  few  persons  who  are  more  fond  of  sing- 
ing than  I  am,  yet  I  cannot  raise  a  tune  myself.  I  try  very 
often,  though  I  do  not  know  long,  from  short,  metre.  My 
wife  told  me,  that  one  night  she  heard  me  calling  up  mourn- 
ers ;  I  would  exhort  awhile,  and  sing  awhile,  and  then  speak 
as  if  some  persons  were  present,  telling  them  I  was  glad  to 
to  see  them,  that  I  had  been  praying  for  them  a  long  time ; 


PREACHING   WHILE   ASLEEP.  159 

and  speaking  to  others,  would  say,  "  you  had  better  not 
strive  against  the  Spirit — he  may  not  always  bear  with  you." 
She  said  she  thought  I  was  making  the  song  as  I  went  along, 
and  was  singing  correctly  to  the  tune  of,  "  I  want  my  friends 
to  go  with  me." 

Some  very  amusing  things  have  happened  in  connection 
with  the  parson's  preaching  and  becoming  very  happy  while 
asleep.  I  dreamed  once  I  was  holding  forth  from  Psalm 
xlii,  11,  to  about  thirty  persons.  I  must  have  got  along  bet- 
ter than  when  awake,  for  there  was  a  great  impression  made. 
I  was  much  excited,  and  praised  the  Lord  aloud.  My  wife 
woke  me  up  and  said  it  was  time  to  stop,  that  I  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  myself,  for  I  had  shouted  and  clapped  my  hands 
and  made  so  great  a  noise  that  I  had  brought  the  dogs  from 
the  servants'  quarter ;  and  they  were  barking  and  running 
around  the  house  in  full  cry,  and  had  come  to  the  back  door 
and  were  trying  to  get  in.  I  then  had  a  hearty  laugh  at  it 
myself. 

Please  bear  with  me  till  I  tell  you  of  one  more  amusing 
circumstance.  The  Strange  Preacher,  I  am  told,  before 
beginning  to  hold  forth  when  asleep,  seems  to  be  in  great 
pain,  groaning  out  aloud,  and  not  long  after  begins  to  shout 
and  clap  his  hands.  When  at  a  house  for  the  first  time  I 
generally  tell  the  friends  not  to  be  alarmed,  should  they  hear 
a  noise  in  my  room.  Some  years  ago,  on  the  Cooper  river 
circuit,  I  was  at  a  friend's  house,  where  I  was  told  next 
morning,  by  some  persons  who  occupied  a  room  near  mine, 
that  some  time  after  midnight  they  were  aroused  up  by  a 
noise  in  my  room ;  that  I  groaned  aloud  and  appeared  to  be 
in  great  pain — causing  them  to  think  I  was  sick.  They 
opened  the  door  and  listened ;  the  distressing  sounds  were 
still  heard  and  they  became  very  much  alarmed,  and  were 
going  to  wake  the  others  and  send  for  a  doctor,  as  they 
thought  I  was  in  the  last  extremity.  But  suddenly  a  great 
change  came.  I  began  to  clap  my  hands  and  cry  out, 
"  Farewell  world,  I'm  bound  for  the  kingdom ;"  and  then  to 
sing  "  I  want  to  live  a  Christian  here,  I  want  to  die  a-shout- 
ing."     They  then  concluded  to  let  the  War  Preacher  alone. 


LEAF  THE  TWENTY- FT  FT  II. 

REMARKABLE    PRESENTIMENTS    WlllCir    CAME    TO    PASS. 

Wluxt  do  you  think,  1113"  friends,  of  those  strong  impres- 
sions which  some  persons  have,  and  Avhicli  come  to  pass? 
From  what  source  do  they  come?  I  believe,  at  times,  they 
are  direct  from  the  Lord,  who  thus  gives  us  a  warning  of 
wliat  is  to  take  place.  Let  me  mention  some  of  the  impres- 
sions I  have  had,  which  afterwards  came  to  pass. 

What  I  am  now  going  to  relate,  happened  some  forty 
years  ago.  It  was  in  my  most  reckless  days — when  madly 
rusliing  to  ruin,  as  the  war-horse  does  into  battle,  without 
believing  it  when  told  of  it  by  others.  I  became  suddenly 
impressed  that  I  had  to  preach  before  I  died.  The  feeling 
was  strong  upon  me.  A  member  of  our  church  was  then 
with  me ;  and  I  expect,  if  still  alive,  he  would  testify  to  what 
I  am  going  to  tell.  I  took  a  pen  and  ink,  and,  as  seriously  as 
if  I  was  making  my  last  will,  wrote  down  that  I  would  have 
to  preach  in  after-life — there  was  no  mistake  of  it.  I  men- 
tioned the  name  of  one  church  particularly — Hej)hzibah.  I 
also  stated  that  I  would  often  hold  prayer-meeting  in  Pino 
Grove  church,  and  signed  my  name,  and  wrote  the  date.  I 
then  gave  it  to  him,  and  charged  him  to  keep  it ;  that  we 
would  live  to  see  it  come  to  pass.  lie  seemed  much  struck, 
and  would  often  allude  to  it.  The  paper  was  lost ;  but  it  all 
came  to  pass  more  than  thirty  years  ago. 

I  sometimes  think,  when  the  thought  of  religion  is  farthest 
from  our  minds,  serious  thoughts  will  suddenly  possess  us  ; 
and  the  Lord  will  impress  us  with  a  picture  of  our  future 
lives,  which  will  be  sure  to  come  to  pass.  When  I  was  a 
wicked  young  man,  I  was  once  writing  to  a  person  for  whom 
I  had  a  high  regard,  and  concluded  the  letter  with  this 
solemn  remark — I  had  not  thought  of  it  before;  "  If  we  ever 
meet  again  in  this  world,  you  will  find  me  in  the  pulpit, 
preaching  the  gospel,  and  on  my  way  to  heaven."  Some 
twenty  years  after,  and  while  I  was  in  the  pulpit  preaching, 


death's  foretold.  161 

that  person  came  into  the  church.  These  things  seem  re- 
markable to  me.  What  do  you  think  of  them?  From 
whence  do  they  come  ?  Has  the  Lord  nothing  to  do  with 
them  ? 

You  must  have  noticed  in  these  Stray  Leaves,  that  some- 
times I  have  been  so  strongly  convinced  of  some  things,  as 
to  speak  of  them  beforehand.  I  have  asserted  that  I  believed 
such  a  person  would  join  the  church,  or  get  religion,  and  it 
came  to  pass  afterwards.  After  I  had  been  jDreaching  several 
years,  I  was,  once  present  at  a  Baptist  meeting,  not  fifty 
miles  from  my  home.  It  was  Saturday.  I  exhorted  for 
them ;  and  I  became  convinced  that  there  was  one  person 
present  in  the  small  assembly,  who  had  heard  a  sermon  for  the 
last  time  in  that  church — that  before  the  preacher  returned 
that  day  four  weeks,  that  individual  would  be  dead,  and  the 
preacher  would  preach  the  funeral  sermon,  I  spoke  of  it  in 
the  pulpit,  and  called  on  the  friends  to  bear  testimony.  A 
member  of  the  the  church  then  present  died,  and  the  funeral 
sermon  was  preached  at  the  next  appointment. 

At  a  protracted  meeting  on  the  Barnwell  circuit,  was  an 
old  gentleman  whom  I  had  long  known,  who  seemed  to  be 
interested  in  the  services.  I  went  to  him,  and  offered  to 
pray  with  him ;  and  he  knelt  at  his  seat.  I  was  afterwards 
convinced  that  we  would  never  meet  again  on  earth  ;  and 
that  he  had  attended  his  last  meeting  at  that  place.  I  bade 
him  farewell ;  and  told  him  it  was  our  last  meeting  in  this 
life.  I  never  saw  him  again ;  for  in  a  few  v/eeks  he  was 
called  to  eternity. 

I  will  mention  one  more  event,  which  I  think  very  re- 
markable. I  do  not  know  how  to  account  for  it,  unless  it 
was  a  visitation  from  the  Holy  One  of  Israel.  I  was  once 
preaching,  and  when  near  the  close,  became  suddenly  im- 
pressed with  a  sad  thought.  I  told  the  congregation,  if 
any  wished  to,  they  might  write  down  Avhat  I  was  about 
to  tell  them,  so  as  to  refer  to  it  if  they  desired.  I  then 
remarked,  that  there  was  a  person  present  who  would  never 
hear  me  again ;  and  that  the  Spirit  was  then  striving  with 
that  person  for  the  last  time  ;  that  the  person  expected  to 
attend  such  a  camp-meeting,  but  would  not  go ;  but  would 


162  STRAY   LEAVES. 

■ 

be  Hooii  called  to  die,  luid  would  nend  for  either  myself  or 
another  preiielier.  1  recalled  those  words;  hut  said  that  the 
friends  would  send  for  me  w^ithout  that  person  knowing  it ; 
that  I  would  sot  out,  but  the  person  would  die  before  I  got 
there.  That  person  was  resolved  to  go  to  the  camp-meeting, 
that  it  might  be  j^roved  that  the  Strange  Preacher  had  made 
a  mistake  for  once;  but,  alas!  sickness  and  death  soon  came. 
The  sands  of  life  had  nearly  run  out ;  but  the  person  told  a 
relative  not  to  send  for  me.  I  was  sent  for,  however,  without 
the  dying  one  knowing  it ;  and  I  started — but'on  my  way  I 
met  a  gentleman,  who  told  me  it  was  too  late.  I  turned 
back.  How  solemn  and  sad  !  Thus  I  feel  now,  while  think- 
ing of  that  remarkable  occurrence. 

Some  weeks  after  this,  a  member  of  another  church  told 
me,  he  wa»s  present  that  day  when  I  made  the  prediction^ 
and  that  it  had  come  to  pass ;  and  that  it  had  made  quite  an 
impression — persons  were  speaking  of  it.  He  expected  there 
would  be  a  revival  at  the  meeting  which  was  soon  to  take 
place.  It  was  so,  and  it  was  perhaps  the  best  time  we  ever 
had  at  that  church. 

These  presentiments  seem  very  remarkable  to  me ;  and  I 
believe  they  were  from  the  Lord.     AYhat  do  you  think  ? 


LEAF  THE  TWEXTY-SIXTH. 

THE    STRANGE    PREACHER   JRYING    HIS    BOB, 

Brother  preacher,  did  yon  ever  fish  for  an  old  trout  ?  You 
often  saw  him  playing  around  your  hook,  coming  quite  near, 
but  he  would  not  take  hold.  He  was  a  large  one ;  and  you 
tried  him  often  and  long — in  hot  and  cool  weather — when 
the  sun  was  very  bright,  and  when  it  was  behind  a  cloud — 
when  the  wind  Vas  blowing,  and  when  everything  was  calm. 
But  all  in  vain ;  you  never  got  a  bite,  and  became  very  much 
discouraged — quite  worn  out.  You  then  changed  your  bait, 
and  tried  first  one  kind,  and  then  another ;  but  still  all  in 
vain.  You  were  then  at  your  wit's  end,  and  thought  you 
might  as  well  strike  your  flag  and  quit,  and  never  try  the 
old  trout  again.  One  day,  you  spoke  of  your  bad  luck  to  a 
friend,  who  asked  if  you  had  ever  tried  your  bob.  You  re- 
plied, no.  He  said,  that  sometimes  you  could  succeed  with 
that,  when  you  had  failed  with  everything  else.  So  you  re- 
solved to  make  another  effort.  You  tried  your  bob  ;  and  the 
first  thing  you  knew,  the  old  trout  struck  at  it,  and  you 
pulled  him  out.  He  was  a  very  large  one.  How  you  re- 
joiced. It  was  more  than  enough  for  your  family,  and  you 
sent  some  of  it  to  a  neighbor. 

Brother  preacher,  were  you  ever  fishing  spiritually  ?  Had 
you  been  endeavoring  for  weeks  and  for  years,  with  the  help 
of  the  Lord,  to  persuade  some  person  to  yield  to  be  saved — 
to  embrace  the  offer  of  the  gospel,  but  all  in  vain ;  till  you 
almost  despaired  of  ever  seeing  him  embrace  religion  ?  But 
at  last  you  thought  of  some  subject  which  you  had  never 
used  when  he  Avas  present.  You  made  another  effort ;  the 
Lord  was  with  you,  and  the  desire  of  your  heart  was  granted. 
You  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him  come  forward  and  join 
the  church.  So  it  has  often  been,  through  the  help  of  the 
blessed  Spirit,  with  the  Wandering  Arab,  when  calling  sin- 
ners to  repentance. 

Many  years  ago,  between  the  Savannah  and  Santee  rivers, 


164  STRAY    LEAVES. 

there  war  a  man,  who  was  very  wicked  ami  profane — a  leader 
of  others  in  the  ways  of  transgrension.  Jla  was  also  very 
fond  of  his  glass,  and  at  times  got  very  drunk.  Eut'^this 
m.an,  as  far  gone  in  sin  as  he  was,  had  a  mother  who  I  hoped 
was  in  heaven,  a  brother  for  whom  I  had  a  high  regard — a 
class-leader — and  a  pious  wife,  who  often  asked  me  to  pray 
for  him,  and  to  try  to  get  him  out  on  the  Lord's  side.  I  be- 
came very  desirous  to  see  him  embrace  religion ;  and,  with 
several  others,  preached  near  where  he  lived,  for  several 
years ;  but  all  in  vain.  I  became  discouraged,  and  felt  like 
giving  him  up;  but  hope  whispered,  "Try  again."  And  for 
the  sake  of  his  pious  wife  and  brother,  I  still-  endeavored  to 
reach  his  heart.  I  sometimes  said  to  myself,  in  some  inter- 
esting meeting,  where  the  Spirit  is  poured  out,  he  will  at  last 
yield  ;  the  time  will  come  when  his  heart  will  be  reached, 
and  he  will  give  up.  But  for  years,  I  hoped  and  wished  in 
vain ;  and  one  day  I  sent  him  word  that  "  I  had  lost  all  ex- 
pectation of  ever  seeing  him  on  the  Lord's  side.  I  had  fished 
for  him  for  years,  with  all  kinds  of  bait,  but  in  vain ;  and  I 
thought  I  would  quit,  and  never  try  him  again ; — that  I 
sometimes  had  silver  fish  on  my  hook,  but  he  w^ould  not  bite  • 
then  I  had  tried  a  nice  little  perch,  but  all  in  vain  ;  and  then 
again  very  small  minnows,  but  still  all  in  vain ;  that  I  even 
used  dead  bait,  but  all  in  vain  :  and  that  I  was  at  a  loss,  and 
thought  I  would  give  it  up,  and  never  try  again."  I  under- 
stood that  when  he  received  my  message,  he  laughed  heartily, 
and  returned  the  following  message — '■  Tell  the  parson  not  to 
despair,  not  to  give  up  ;  he  has  never  fished  with  his  bob  yet ; 
to  try  that  the  next  time,  for  some  old  trout  can  never  be 
caught  except  with  a  bob."  I  did  not  at  first  know  what  he 
meant;  but  at  last  concluded  that  I  knew  what  it  was.  I 
thought,  perhaps,  I  had  never  given  the  subject  a  fair  trial, 
at  least  for  a  long  time.  So  I  resolved  to  try  my  bob  the 
first  good  chance  I  had. 

A  two  days'  meeting  was  appointed,  w^here  I  expected  him 
to  be.  I  praj^ed  much  for  the  presence  of  the  Lord  to  be 
granted  us,  and  for  that  person  particularly.  We  had  a 
glorious  revival ;  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  was  graciously  poured 
out.    The  meeting  was  protracted  ;  several  joined,  and  mourn- 


HOW   AN   OLD   SINNER   WAS   CAUGHT.  165 

ers  crowded  the  altar.  It  was,  I  think,  the  best  meetmg  we 
ever  had  there.  I  preached  one  day.  I  said,  "  the  Lord 
helping  me,  I  Tvill  try  my  bob  now."  I  had  concluded  he 
meant,  that  as  he  was  fond  of  his  glass,  I  should  speak  of 
some  of  the  effects  of  intemperance,  and  then  of  the  happy 
change  which  takes  place,  when  one  addicted  to  it  comes  out 
on  the  Lord's  side.  So  that  day,  in  the  course  of  my  remarks, 
I  enlarged  upon  the  ruinous  eifects  of  strong  drink  upon  soul 
and  body — that  without  repentance  the  intemperate  man 
was  doomed  to  hell.  I  then  spoke  of  the  happy  change 
which  takes  place  when  the  heart  is  reached  by  the  Holy 
Spirit — when  one  has  been  converted,  and  has  become  a  new 
creature  in  Christ  Jesus.  I  spoke  of  the  first  time  that  such 
a  man  would  meet  his  wife  after  his  conversion,  and  what  a 
time  of  rejoicing  they  would  have ;  and  I  represented  them 
as  travelling  together  through  this  troublesome  world  to- 
ward Liimanuel's  land.  As  I  was  passing  through  this  part 
of  the  discourse,  the  man  alluded  to  turned  to  a  friend,  a 
pious  member  of  the  Baptist  church,  and,  with  tears  in  his 
eyes,  said  in  a  whisper,  "  The  parson  is  trying  his  bob  now ; 
I  will  have  to  give  up."  He  joined  the  church  that  day. 
The  crowd  was  so  great,  that  those  at  a  distance  could  not 
see  who  came  up.  Two  ladies  were  standing  together,  and 
one  asked,  w^ho  that  was  who  joined  the  church ;  and  the 

other  replied,  she  knew  it  was  Mr. ,  by  the  w^ay  the 

preacher  said  "  Farewell  world !  "  And  so  it  was.  The  joy 
of  that,  happy  wife,  who  had  been  praying  so  long  for  her 
husband,  cannot  be  depicted,  when  the  great  wish  of  her 
heart  was  at  last  granted.  He  became  soundly  converted, 
and  was  a  class-leader  afterwards. 

I  have  more  than  once  heard  him,  in  love-feast,  speak  of 
the  message  I  sent  him,  and  the  answer  he  returned,  and 
what  he  said  that  day  to  a  friend  sitting  near — he  could  stand 
it  no  longer,  for  the  parson  was  trying  his  bob.  Many  of 
his  friends  were  much  surprised ;  but  he  showed  them  he 
was  truly  in  earnest,  by  the  strong  stand  which  he  took. 
He  was  a  warm  and  zealous  member,  ready  at  any  time  to 
take  up  his  cross.  I  have  been  with  him  at  several  meetings. 
He  believed  in  heart-felt  religion,  and  often  rejoiced  aloud. 


IGG  STRAY   LEAVES. 

I  have  often  since  then,  "tried  my  bob,"  sonictimes,  how. 
ever,  unsuccessfully.  The  old  trout  sometimes  becomes  frii^ht- 
ened,  and  stands  at  a  distance,  or  darts  rapidly  away.  I  was 
once  at  a  meeting  in  Florida,  when  I  was  describing  the  case 
of  a  young  man  who  began  life  under  very  favorable  auspices. 
lie  was  happily  married,  and  for  years  everything  went  on 
smoothly.  His  wife  loved  the  Lord,  and  was  on  her  way  to 
heaven ;  but  in  time  he  began  to  frequent  the  grog-shop,  and 
after  a  while  became  quite  dissipated,  and  treated  his  wife 
very  cruelly — causing  her,  at  times,  to  run  for  dear  life,  in 
the  still  hours  of  night.  I  represented  that  man  as  once 
going  to  church,  where  his  heart  was  reached,  and  he  be- 
came powerfully  convicted,  and  was  happily  converted,  and 
went  home  a  changed  man  ;  and  I  spoke  of  the  meeting  be- 
tween him  and  his  wife.  A  man  was  present  who  had  thus 
treated  his  wife ;  and  she  too  was  there,  and  was  a  member 
of  the  Baptist  church.  He  afterwards  sent  me  word  that  I 
had  spoken  the  truth  ;  and  that,  with  the  help  of  the  Lord, 
he  was  resolved  to  change  his  course ;  and  requested  me  to 
pray  for  him,  and  hoi)ed  to  meet  me  in  heaven ;  and  said 
that  he  would  join  his  wife's  church.  His  friends  were  much 
surprised. 

I  was  once  at  a  meeting  at  Little  Swamp,  where  we  were 
enjoying  a  very  gracious  revival.  I  was  trying  my  bob 
again.  There  was  a  man  present  who  had  travelled  far  on 
the  road  to  destruction,  who  said  to  a  friend  at  his  side — 
"  Squire,  don't  you  think  the  parson  is  fishing  for  me  ?"  The 
reply  was,  "Yes,  I  think  he  is,"  He  said  with  a  smile,  "But 
he  will  not  catch  me."  I  went  on  for  some  time  ;  when  the 
same  question  was  repeated,  and  the  same  reply  given.  This 
continued  for  some  time ;  but  after  a  w^hile  the  Squire  heard 
nothing  more  from  his  friend.  He  looked  at  him — he  was 
weeping;  and  the  Squire  then  said  to  himself,  "I  think  he 
will  catch  you."  And  so  it  turned  out.  That  evening  he 
joined  the  church,  and  never  stopped  till  he  got  the  blessing. 
He  was  converted  while  -at  work.  A  faithful  member  of  the 
church  was  present  to  rejoice  with  him  in  the  great  change' 
which  had  taken  place. 

I  have  been  thus  often  blessed  while  speaking  of  the  great 


RUNNING   FROM   THE   ^*  BOB."  167 

change  which  takes  place  in  the  most  dissipated  persons. 
I  was  once  at  a  meeting  in  Florida  where  I  enjoyed  myself 
much.  It  was  a  gracious  season  in  that  land  of  flowers.  On 
Saturday  night  the  church  was  crowded,  and  the  Lord  was 
graciously  present.  I  made  a  strong  effort  to  reach  the 
backslider's  heart  through  grace.  The  sermon  was  finished, 
a  soul  stirring  hymn  was  being  sung,  and  as  usual  I  was 
passing  through  the  crowd  shaking  hands.  I  paused  near  a 
bench  on  which  several  gentlemen  were  seated.  They  seemed 
so  confused  I  did  not  offer  to  shake  hands  with  them.  The 
next  day  a  brother  told  me,  that  the  night  before,  while  re- 
turning from  church,  he  overheard  some  gentlemen  in  con- 
versation, when  one  said  to  another,  "  AVell,  Colonel,  I  was 
sorry  for  you  to-night,  w^ien  the  preacher  was  sj^eaking 
about  backsliders — your  picture  was  well  drawn."  ''  Yes," 
said  the  others,  "  to  the  life,  all  that  was  lacking  was  the 
name."  "  And,"  said  the  other,  "  I  expected  him  to  call  it 
out.  What  Avould  you  have  done,  Colonel,  if,  when  he  paused 
where  we  were  sitting,  he  had  offered  to  shake  hands?"  "I 
would  have  jumped  out  the  open  window."  This  gives  you 
some  idea  of  the  influence  which  prevailed. 

The  next  day  the  large  church  was  filled  to  overflowing. 
The  Judge  and  the  member  of  Congress  were  present,  and 
there  was  a  dense  mass  of  closely  packed  people.  Church 
members  seemed  deeply  interested,  and  I  thought  much 
prayer  was  being  offered  to  the  throne  of  heavenly  grace. 
I  felt  the  divine  afiiatus  upon  me.  The  Holy  Spirit  was 
preaching  through  a  very  unworthy  instrument.  The  con- 
gregation seemed  much  excited,  and  I  noticed  that  one  of 
those  honorable  gentlemen  was  much  affected.  I  sat  down. 
Some  brother  began  to  sing  a  favorite  song,  "  The  warfare  is 
over."  Several  joined  him;  the  Strange  Preacher  could  not 
stand  it ;  h.  was  on  his  feet  at  once,  and  was  passing  through 
the  crowd  to  speak  to  the  gentleman  mentioned  above ;  but 
he,  with  others,  could  not  stand  the  fire,  and  they  left.  A 
preacher  requested  them  to  come  back — we  would  not  hurt 
them.  Sometimes  the  trout  will  not  strike  at  the  bob,  but 
will  look  at  it  and  dart  oft\ 


LEAF  THE  TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

THE    HEROES    OF    THE    OLD    WALTERBORO    CIRCUIT. 

In  writing  these  scenes  of  the  past,  I  liave  several  times 
thought  I  ought  to  say  something  of  my  old  circuit,  and  all 
the  principal  brethren  in  it,  when  I  joined  the  church,  and 
for  some  time  after.  At  times  when  engaged  thinking  of 
by-gone  years,  I  have  almost  fancied  I  could  hear  voices 
from  the  other  side  of  the  flood,  saying,  "Brother  Bellinger, 
is  it  possible,  in  reviewing  your  past  life,  that  you  are  going 
to  say  nothing  about  the  friends  you  loved  on  the  old  Wal- 
terboro  circuit,  who  have  entered  into  rest,  and  who  hope  to 
welcome  you  and  the  rest  of  the  old  companions  still  behind, 
when  you  come  ?"  It  "seemed  to  me  that  I  could  almost  hear 
voices  of  loved  ones  gone  speaking  to  me  from  many  places 
— from  Pine  Grove,  Green  Pond,  Ebenezer,  Carmel,  St.  Johns, 
Little  Swamp,  Mizpah,  and  all  around  the  old  bounds.  It 
has  been  thus  with  me  while  writing  of  the  past,  and  I  will 
put  it  off  no  longer. 

O,  my  much  loved  friends  of  the  old  circuit,  gone  to  heaven, 
I  often  think  of  you  and  of  the  others  still  left  behind  in  this 
vale  of  tears.  I  hope  you  have  not  forgotten  ns  here  below, 
and  that  you  will  meet  us  on  the  banks  of  eternal  deliver- 
ance, when  our  warfare  is  over,  and  we  are  called  home.  I 
know  I  cannot  do  justice  to  the  dead  or  living ;  but  I  hope  my 
friends  will  take  the  will  for  the  deed,  and  if  something  is  left 
out  which  should  have  been  mentioned,  in  the' opinion  of 
some,  remember  that  there  is  not  room  to  mention  all  par- 
ticulars. 

Where  shall  I  begin  ?  If  you  will  leave  it  to  me,  I  will 
begin  at  Pine  Grove.  Much  loved  old  place,  how  can  I  for- 
get thee?  Brother  Aaron  Smith  was  the  class-leader;  a 
blessed  man  of  God ;  one  of  the  old  Methodists  in  dress  and 
manners ;  a  man  of  few  words,  but  always  to  the  point.  How 
well  I  remember  him  and  his  whole-souled  wife.  AV^hat  pleas- 
ant hours  I  have  often  spent  with  them.     And  that  saint  of 


PINE   GEOVE   AND   GREEN   POND.  169 

the  Lord,  Brother  Steadlj.  and  others;  and  Brother  Muse, 
who  was  taken  into  fall  connection  in  the  church  on  the 
same  day  with  me,  by  Brother  Dunwody,  and  who  still 
lives,  and  I  hope  is  on  his  way  to  the  better  land.  I  cannot 
forget  old  Pine  Grove ;  for  I  was  treated  with  much  kind- 
ness by  the  members  of  the  church  there.  They  bore  with 
my  weakness  and  my  unworthiness.  We  often  enjoyed  our- 
selves much  in  class  and  prayer  meetings.  Sometimes  there 
were  only  a  few  present ;  but  Brothers  Smith  and  Steadly, 
and  a  few  others,  would  always  be  sure  to  be  there.  But 
several  of  my  old  Pine  Grove  friends  have  gone  to  the  better 
land  above.  Many  years  ago.  Brother  Eason  Smith  went 
home.  A  good  brother  told  me,  that  not  long  before  he  left 
ns,  he  was  with  him  at  a  prayer-meeting — that  he  was  very 
happy,  and  left  singing  that  old  song — 

"  Here  we  go  rejoicing  home, 
From  the  banquet  of  perfume." 

Sister  Smith,  Brother  Steadly,  and  others,  have  long  since 
gone.  Happy  dead !  ye  have  long  been  removed  from  the 
sorrows  and  troubles  of  this  life.  Your  warfare  is  over.  You 
rest  from  your  labor,  in  the  Paradise  above.  For  many 
years,  when  the  congregation  worshipped  elsewhere,  I  sel- 
dom passed  the  church  without  oifering  prayer  to  the  Lord, 
and  imploring  his  protection  for  myself  and  the  circuit. 

Old  Green  Pond !  thou  art  not  forgotten  by  me.  The  old 
church  has  long  been  replaced  by  a  new  one.  Camp-meet- 
ings were  often  held  there  in  the  olden  time — at  one  of 
which  I  was  licensed  to  preach.  Brother  Allen  Williams, 
father  the  Eev.  P.  A.  M.  Williams,  was  the  class-leader — a 
man  of  strong  faith  and  confidence  in  the  Lord,  who  believed 
in  a  heart-felt  religion.  Brother  Thomas  Eaysor — the  most 
beloved  of  all  my  friends — had  his  membership  there  several 
years  before  I  joined  the  church.  Old  Green  Pond !  what 
immortal  memories  dost  thou  recall  to  my  mind !  what  gra- 
cious seasons  we  often  had  there !  I  remember  a  time  when 
I  went  out  in  the  crowd,  to  a  gentleman  of  respectable 
standing,  Mr.  Spell,  and  spoke  to  him  of  religion.  He  joined 
the  church  at  that  meeting,  and  some  years  after  was  called 
11 


170  STRAY   LEAVES. 

to  the  joys  of  heaven.  A  few  hours  before  his  death,  ho  told 
u  friend  to  say  to  me,  for  him,  that  he  was  going  to  glory, 
and  hoped  I  would  meet  him  there,;  that  he  thanked  me  for 
going  to  him  that  day,  for  it  was  the  means  of  bringing  him 
to  the  Lord.  The  most  of  the  old  members  of  Green  Pond 
are  gone  to  the  sweet  fields  of  Eden,  on  the  oflier  side  of  the 
flood.  I  remember  a  good  camp-meeting  there  many  years 
ago,  when  a  Mr,  Johnson  and  Colonel  John  Ilaysor  joined 
the  church.  1  recollect  the  text  the  Strange  Preacher  took, 
*'  He  that  goeth  forth  weeping,  bearing  precious  seed,  shall 
doubtless  return  again  rejoicing,  bringing  his  sheaves  with 
him."  Mr.  Johnson  had  fallen  out  with  Brother  Williams, 
years  before.  Brother  W.  had  often  tried  to  make  it  up  with 
him,  but  never  could  succeed ;  but  after  he  had  been  to  the 
altar,  he  went  to  Brother  W.,  and  made  it  up  with  him,  and 
requested  him  to  pray  for  him.  He  was  soon  after  con- 
verted. Sister  Spell,  unless  I  am  mistaken,  is  the  only  one 
of  the  old  Green  Pond  members  left,  who  were  in  the  church 
when  I  joined. 

Ebenezer.  There  are  still  a  few  names  left  here  of  the  old 
members.  Brothers  Alfred  Eaysor — the  old  class-leader, 
Benjamin  Eisher,  Sley,  and  Martin  Jaques — I  have  long 
known,  long  respected  them.  The  devil  has  tried  hard  to 
win  them  back  to  the  world ;  but,  by  the  help  of  the  Lord, 
they  have  so  far  held  out  faithful,  and  fought  the  good  fight 
of  faith  ;  and  I  hope  w^ill  in  the  end  win  eternal  life.  Bro- 
ther Eisher  and  his  family  have  ever  been  very  kind  and 
true  friends  of  mine  throughout  my  Christian  life ;  and  I 
have  always  felt  very  glad  to  meet,  and  sorry  to  leave,  them. 
May  our  blessed  Lord  save  them  all  in  his  heavenly  king- 
dom, for  Jesus'  sake.     Amen. 

Eehoboth.  I  have  often  enjoyed  myself  at  the  old  churcli, 
for  which  I  thank  the  Lord.  Brothers  Philip  Jaques,  Aker- 
man,  and  Dandridge  w^ere  here.  They  were  whole-souled, 
thorough-going,  pious  men  of  Israel,  and  enjoyed  much  of 
religion.  It  was  a  great  pleasure  for  me  to  see  them  in  the 
congregation,  in  the  olden  times ;  for  I  knew  that  they 
prayed  for  me  when  I  was  trying  to  preach. 

Sheridan's  Chapel.     Here  there  w^as  a  yerj  small  member- 


AND   ISLAND   CREEK.  171 

ship  when  I  first  preached  to  them.  There  were  two  bro- 
thers, named  Johnson,  who  were  good  and  true  old-time 
Methodists,  in  dress  and  manners.  They  are  both  gone  to 
the  good  world,  I  hope.  Here,  too,  was  that  good  man,  Bro- 
ther Abram  Willis,  who  is  respected  by  all  who  know  him ; 
his  house  has  been  a  home  for  preachers  for  more  than 
thirty  years.  He  is  a  modest  man,  of  quiet,  gentle  manners, 
but  full  of  the  Holy  Ghost  and  of  faith.  He  was  still  alive, 
when  last  heard  from — with  his  back  to  the  world,  and  his 
face  to  the  Jerusalem  above.  I  have  often  enjoyed  myself 
much  with  Brother  Willis ;  and  I  hope  to  meet  all  the  family 
in  heaven. 

Dear  old  Island  Creek  !  Louis  O'Brien — "  clarum  et  ven- 
erabile  nomen."  Departed  brother,  all  hail!  Thou  art  gone 
to  thy  reward,  and  thy  sainted  wife  with  thee.  What  a 
home  for  the  preacher  was  thy  house  in  the  olden  times !  I 
loved  much  to  hear  him  tell  of  the  old  ministers  who  tra- 
velled in  those  parts,  when  he  was  a  young  man  first  settled 
in  life — that  they  went  from  house  to  house  with  their 
saddle-bags ;  and  how,  when  they  preached,  at  times  the 
power  of  the  Holy  Spirit  would  come  down  on  the  congre- 
gation, and  sinners  would  fall  right  and  left,  like  men  shot 
through  the  heart,  and  remain  motionless  for  a  long  time, 
and  then  rise  and  praise  the  Lord  aloud  for  his  pardoning 
grace.  But  Uncle  Louis,  many  years  ago,  went  safe  to  the 
realms  above ;  and  there  went  his  eldest  son — a  blessed  man 
of  faith  and  prayer.  The  last  time  I  ever  saw  him  was  at 
Island  Creek,  and  there  was  only  one  other  present ;  but  we 
had  a  happy  time  together ;  and  I  preached  to  the  two  per- 
sons. The  subject  was — "  The  ways  of  Zion  mourn,  because 
none  come  to  her  solemn  feasts."  I  remember  another  day 
at  Island  Creek,  in  the  olden  times.  The  service  was  over. 
I  said  I  would  like  to  have  night-meeting  there,  if  the 
friends  wished  it.  Brother  Eobinson  got  up,  and  said,  that 
was  not  a  good  place  for  night-meeting ;  but  if  I  would  come 
to  Jones's  Swamp,  they  would  give  me  a  congregation — but 
that  there  was  no  house  to  preach  in.  I  gave  out  the  meet- 
ing ;  a  great  revival  broke  out,  and  I  went  back  there  from 
Green  Pond  on  Monday.     I  was  on  the  circuit  then  in  Bro- 


1  /  2  STRAY   LEAVES. 

thcr  Moore's  place.  A  society  was  formed  and  a  church 
built,  which  was  called  Mount  Carmel.  A  camp-ground  was 
afterwardn  established  at  the  same  place;  and  I' donot  re- 
member ever  having  been  there  once  in  near  thirty  years, 
but  that  the  Lord  met  with  us,  and  we  rejoiced  in  heavenly 
])laces  in  Christ  Jesus,  and  felt  that  we  were  sitting  under 
the  droppings  of  the  sanctuary.  Brothers  Blox,  Robinson, 
and  Blocker  were  yet  alive  when  last  heard  from — and  were 
whole-souled  men,  full  of  the  Holy  Ghost  and  of  power.  I 
always  was  glad  to  see  them  in  the  congregation.  They  yet 
stand  as  they  did  in  the  olden  times,  as  witnesses  for  Jesus, 
who  were  loved  of  iiim,  and  were  bound  for  heaven. 

O,  my  soul !  praise  the  Lord  that  my  poor  labors  have  been 
so  often  blessed  at  Mount  Carmel.  There  was  my  much- 
respected  friend,  Brother  Linder,  who  still  lives  to  meet  me 
when  I  go  there,  and  to  treat  me  with  much  kindness. 
There,  too,  was  Brother  Beach,  at  whose  house  I  always 
felt  at  home.  And  those  holy  women  of  the  Lord  at  Mount 
Carmel — Sisters  Eobinson,  Beach,  Blocker,  and  others,  how 
I  loved  to  shake  hands  with  them,  and  hear  them  sing  the 
old  songs  of  Zion  ! 

In  by-gone  years,  I  sometimes  dreamed  of  Island  Creek 
and  Mount  Carmel.  I  remember  many  years  ago,  there  was 
a  two  days'  meeting  held  at  the  two  churches  ;  and  I  stopped 
all  night  at  St.  John's,  and  dreamed  that  I  had  a  good  meet- 
ing where  I  was  going,  and  twelve  persons  joined  the  church 
— but  I  did  not  mention  it  till  the  meeting  was  over.  We 
divided  the  time  between  the  two  churches ;  and  on  Sunday, 
at  Island  Creek,  the  Holy  Spirit  was  graciously  present,  and 
five  persons  joined.  We  had  night-meeting  at  Carmel.  A 
large  congregation  was  present,  and  it  was  a  time  of  much 
rejoicing ;  and  seven  persons  joined — five  in  the  morning, 
and  seven  at  night — the  number  was  made  up.  I  have  had 
many  a  weary  ride  to  old  Carmel — nearly  forty  miles  from 
my  home,  and  a  part  of  the  way  a  very  bad  road  to  travel — 
but  I  never  went  there  without  feeling  glad  that  I  had 
gone. 

St.  John's.  The  worthy  class-leader  was  still  alive  when 
last  heard  from — Brother  Joseph  Risher,  "  an  Israelite  in 


173 

whom  there  is  no  guile."  I  have  never  met  him  once  in 
thirty  years,  but  that  I  was  greeted  with  a  smile  and  a 
friendl}^  shake  of  the  hand,  that  went  to  my  heart.  If  he 
was  not  one  of  the  heroes  of  the  Walterboro  circuit,  then 
there  were  none.  Whenever  I  went  there,  if  my  faith  was 
strong,  it  became  stronger;  if  my  spirits  were  good,  they 
became  better ;  if  my  head  was  aching,  the  pain  would  soon 
soon  leave  me ;  if  I  was  cast  down  and  sad  of  heart,  and  felt 
that  I  was  very  low  down  in  the  valley,  when  I  had  been 
welcomed  with  kind  words  and  smiles  of  love  by  himself  and 
his  interesting  family,  I  would  soon  find  that  a  change  for 
the  better  was  coming  over  my  whole  mature ;  and  then, 
when  they  sung  some  of  my  much-loved  songs,  my  sad  feel- 
ings would  leave  me,  and  the  Strange  Preacher  would  clap 
his  hands,  and  cry  out,  "  Farewell  world !  I'm  bound  for  the 
kingdom."  ■  AVhat  a  sweet  oasis  in  this  desert  world,  to  the 
"Wandering  Arab,  is  Brother  Joseph  Eisher's  home.  He  is 
truly  the  hero  of  St.  John's. 

There  was  another  veteran  there — a  holy  man,  good  and 
true,  who  has  long  since  gone  to  the  realms  above ;  he  was 
a  man  of  few  words,  silent,  grave,  serious,  thoughtful ;  who 
had  been  with  Jesus,  and  was  loved  of  him ;  a  man  that  the 
holy  angels  revered,  and  whom  the  devil  was  obliged  to  res- 
pect— Brother  Duncan  Stewart,  another  of  the  heroes  of  the 
old  circuit.  He  has  left  a  family  behind  him,  much  res- 
pected. The  blood  of  the  time-honored  veteran  flowing  in 
the  veins  of  his  descendants,  was  freely,  like  water,  poured 
out — but,  alas  !  all  in  vain — for  our  lost  cause.  I  have  some 
dear  friends  at  St.  John's,  for  whom  I  often  pray. 

Buckhead — much-loved  old  Buckhead !  Thy  glory  has 
departed ;  the  voice  of  rejoicing  is  no  longer  heard  in  thy 
tabernacles ;  the  voice  of  the  preacher  no  longer  resounds 
through  thy  old  woods ;  the  church  no  longer  stands  ;  the 
camp-ground  is  deserted — the  place  where  it  once  stood,  like 
the  Mount  Zion  of  the  exiled  Israelites,  has  become  at  last  a 
ploughed  field ;  and  the  corn  or  cotton  now  grows  on  the 
holy  place  over  which  angels  loved  to  hover  on  their  golden 
wings,  and  with  joy  carried  the  glad  tidings  to  heaven,  that 
the  dead  was  alive,  and  the  lost  found.    Dear  old  Buckhead ! 


174  STPwAY    LEAVES. 

though  there  is  no  poet  or  historian  to  immortalize  thee  in 
undying  words,  the  Strange  Preacher,  with  tears  in  his  eyes, 
will  say  something  of  thy  former  glory,  and  thy  present 
desolation,  before  he  goes  hence,  where  he  hopes  to  meet 
the  holy  men  of  old,  whose  voices  were  heard  in  thy  sacred 
precincts.  I  remember  the  camp-meetings  which  I  attended 
there  in  the  days  of  "  auld  lang  syne."  'Twas  there,  too 
where  I  preached  some  of  my  first  sermons,  more  than 
thirty  years  ago ;  and  Brothers  Talley,  Bass,  S.  AV.  Capers, 
English,  and  McPhail,  stand  before  me  as  large  as  life,  when 
I  think  of  Biickhead  camp-ground,  and  Brothers  McCall, 
Durant,  and  Picket,  and  other  immortal  names,  whose  record 
is  on  high.  I  remember  how  the  heroes,  from  the  length 
and  breadth  of  the  Walterboro  circuit,  with  many  others, 
would  meet  there,  and,  uniting  their  strength,  bear  down  on 
the  enemy — winning  victories  over  the  powers  of  hell,  and 
exulting  aloud  in  the  God  of  their  salvation. 

I  remember  one  Sunday,  at  the  11  o'clock  service  (I  sup- 
pose I  had  sat  up  too  late  the  night  before),  that  a  minister, 
whose  preaching  I  admired  very  much,  was  in  the  pulpit, 
yet,  in  spite  of  myself,  I  became  very  sleepy.  After  preach- 
ing a  while,  he  requested  some  one  to  wake  me  up,  as  he 
was  going  to  say  something  which  he  wished  very  much  for 
me  to  hear.  I  was  at  once  completely  aroused.  And  at  the 
3  o'clock  service,  the  whole  congregation  seemed  inclined  to 
drowsiness,  when  Brother  Picket  got  up,  and  at  once  roused 
up  the  entire  crowd,  by  giving  out  the  whole  of  a  very  sin- 
gular chapter  for  his  text — about  the  wheels  within  the 
wheels,  and  the  eyes  in  the  wheels — and  we  had  a  very 
good  meeting.  I  recollect  one  night,  particularlj" — a  gra- 
cious season  it  was — the  whole  congregation  seemed  much 
impressed,  and  the  shouts  of  the  redeemed  rang  through  the 
woods ;  many  mourners  were  at  the  altar,  and  there  were 
many  happy  conversions — among  them  a  young  man  who 
afterwards  became  a  preacher.  Those  old  deserted  camp- 
grounds of  our  Conference — Swallow  Savannah,  Black  Swamp, 
Green  Pond,  Buckhead,  Cane  Creek,  Goshen  Hill,  and  many 
others — how  sad  the  Wandering  Arab  feels  at  times,  while 
thinking  of  their  former  glory,  and  their  present  ruinous 


OLD   CAMP   GROUNDS    AND    BETHEL.  175 

condition !  I  wonder  if  the  holy  spirits  fly  over  them  still, 
as  they  did  in  the  olden  time ;  but  I  suspect  not — there  is 
nothing  to  interest  them  there  now.  I  wonder  if  the  spirits 
of  perdition  flap  their  dark  wings  over  those  old  places  as 
they  once  did  ;  I  suspect  not.  I  wonder  if  our  much-loved 
friends,  departed  and  gone  to  rest,  look  down  from  those 
heavenly  battlements  now,  as  they  did  in  those  days  when 
the  friends  left  behind  worshij^ped  there ;  I  suspect  not — for 
what  do  immortal  spirits  care  for  those  old  grounds,  so 
changed,  and,  alas  !  for  the  worse. 

Much-loved  old  Buckhead !  there  was  a  time  when  good 
men  and  true  worshipped  in  thy  holy  church.  With  several 
others,  there  was  my  friend  and  brother  Charles  Stewart — 
one  of  the  heroes  of  the  old  circuit,  who  has  long  since  gone 
to  the  green  fields  of  Eden — a  friend  of  the  preachers  and 
the  church.  The  more  you  saw  of  him,  the  more  you  res- 
pected him ;  the  more  intimate  you  became,  the  more  you 
loved  him.  He  might  be  called  the  Gains  of  the  Walterboro 
circuit.     "  Yale,  longe  vale,"  to  old  Buckhead  ! 

Bethel.  What  name  comes  first  among  her  departed 
heroes  ?  Brother  Ulmer,  the  old  preacher,  of  course.  I 
respected  and  revered  him  much — plain,  simple,  childlike, 
full  of  meekness  and  humility,  always  sitting  on  a  lower 
seat  than  that  to  which  he  was  entitled.  From  his  long 
life,  he  might  have  been  called  the  Nestor  of  the  old  circuit  : 
a  man  of  faith,  and  hope,  and  love.  It  was  a  great  pleasure, 
which  I  often  enjoyed,  to  pass  a  night  under  his  family  roof. 
He  had  many  interesting  tales  of  old  times  to  tell  the  young 
preachers.  I  can  fancy  I  see  him  now,  as  he  used  to  sit  in 
his  old  chair  in  the  warm  corner  of  the  chimney,  on  some 
cold  evening  in  winter,  smoking  his  pipe,  telling  of  the  old 
preachers — many  of  whom  he  had  seen  and  heard ;  and  as 
he  talked,  I  listened  much  pleased;  but  after  a  while,  his 
pipe  would  go  out,  and  the  tears  would  begin  to  fall,  and  he 
would  weep  like  a  boy  whose  mother  is  dead.  I  have  been 
at  many  happy  meetings  with  the  old  hero  of  Bethel.  But 
there  was  another  name — a  man  of  holy  longings  for  immor- 
tality and  eternal  life — Brother  Edward  Bryan,  the  exhorter, 
the  just,  the  upright  Christian — a  man  lowly  and  humble, 


]76  STRAY   LEAVES. 

who  enjoyed  much  hourt-folt  religion ;  who  got  happy  at 
home,  at  meetings,  and  everywhere.  I  have  often  been 
with  him  when  the  Lor<l  revived  his  work.  The  two  old 
heroes  of  Bethel  have  long  since  met  in  the  paradise  above, 
to  part  no  more.    , 

Shiloh,  of  which  I  have  written  a  number,  was  in  the 
bounds  of  the  old  circuit ;  but  I  do  not  know  if  it  was  always 
on  the  plan.  Brother  Snider  was  there — a  good  man,  much 
thought  of,  much  respected.  He  had  a  pleasant  family;  and 
his  house  was  a  good  home  for  the  preachers — and  I  have 
often  enjoyed  myself  there.  His  wife,  son,  and  self,  I  hope, 
are  now  in  the  happy  land,  far,  far  away.  Brothers  Ulmer 
and  Bryan  were  with  me  several  times  at  old  Shiloh.  Those 
two  departed  friends  labored  faithfully  on  that  part  of  the 
circuit,  and  had  many  friends,  both  in  the  church  and  the 
world,  who  respected  them  much,  and  often  attended  their 
meetings. 

Antioch.  This  was  a  small  church,  near  Cruise's  Ford, 
on  the  Great  Saltketcher,  which  has  since  been  replaced  by 
another,  near  by  the  same  place.  I  hope  I  will  never  forget 
the  meetings  in  that  old  church,  with  Brothers  Ulmer,  Yarn, 
and  Bryan.  The  Lord  was  often  present.  Brother  AYilliam 
Yarn  was  the  old  class-leader — a  pure,  humble,  heavenly- 
minded  man — who  loved  the  place  of  prayer,  and  who  has 
been  for  years  in  the  paradise  above.  And  there  was  an- 
other who  succeeded  him  in  that  holy  office — Brother  Godly, 
whom  I  thought  much  of,  and  who  lived  near  the  throne  of 
grace.  I  do  not  remember  ever  having  met  him,  but  that 
he  seemed  cheerful  and  happy — ready  and  waiting  for  his 
Master's  call  to  come  up  higher.  I  was  very  sorry  when  I 
heard  of  his  death  many  years  ago;  but  my  loss  was  his 
eternal  gain. 

Salem.  That  name  stands  first  in  bold  relief.  Dr.  Hen- 
derson— the  polished  gentleman,  the  whole-souled  friend, 
the  kind  host,  and  the  Christian  soldier.  Departed  brother, 
how  well  do  I  remember  thee !  and.  Oh  !  how  I  mourned 
over  thy  violent  death  I  "What  glorious  times  I  have  seen 
at  the  Salem  church !  Before  the  Doctor  joined,  Brother 
Yarn  and  myself  had  a  two  days'  meeting  there.     We  were 


SALEM,    PEJ^IEL   AND   WALTERBORO.  177 

at  the  breakfast  table  on  Monday,  and  we  were  soon  to  leave 
for  our  homes.  Dr.  H.  had  not  been  on  speaking  terms  with 
a  certain  member  of  our  church  for  years.  He  was  pressing 
us  to  have  another  meeting  at  Salem.  Having  always  been 
very  impulsive,  I  sometimes  risk  much  by  speaking  hastily, 
without  the  least  reflection,  hoping  and  trusting  in  the  Lord, 
that  it  will  turn  out  for  the  best ;  but  I  know  I  have  some- 
times said  what  I  much  regretted  afterwards,  at  other  times, 
though,  it  seemed  to  have  been  owned  and  blessed  of  the 
Lord.  Under  an  impulse,  I  said  to  Dr.  H.,  that  we  would 
give  him  a  two  days'  meeting,  provided  he  would  make 
friends  with  that  brother,  and  forgive  and  forget.  He 
paused  a  moment,  with  a  flushed  face — oh,  what  a  pause ! 
and  then  remarked  that  he  would  do  so.  We  then  promised 
him  the  meeting,  and  departed.  O !  how  1  implored  the 
Lord  to  meet  with  and  bless  us  at  that  place.  The  set  time 
came,  and  we  went,  some  fifty  miles  from  home.  When  we 
got  there,  the  Doctor  told  us,  he  preferred  making  friends 
at  the  altar.  They  met,  and  shook  hands  ;  and  the  brother 
told  me  the  next  morning,  he  still  felt  the  pressure  of  Dr. 
Henderson's  hand.  We  had  a  meeting  of  precious  remem- 
brance— the  best  time  I  ever  saw  at  old  Salem.  Some  forty 
persons  joined  one  day ;  and  it  was  said  by  some  to  have 
been  the  best  they  ever  had  there.  On  one  occasion,  every 
one  present  came  to  the  altar  to  unite  in  prayer.  The  last 
one  had  made  up  his  mind,  as  he  told  a  friend,  that  nothing 
should  induce  him  to  come ;  and  I  was  very  glad  to  see  him 
there. 

Peniel.  This  church,  at  the  place  where  it  then  stood, 
had  declined  much  when  I  first  went  there ;  but  there  was 
still  one  blessed  man  of  Israel  left,  who  was  faithful  and  true 
— Brother  Lowry.  He  is  of  precious  memory,  full  of  faith 
and  good  works. 

Walterboro.  If  there  was  a  hero  there,  I  am  sorry  I  have 
forgotten  him.  But,  my  friends,  there  were  some  heroines 
there,  whom  I  think  should  be  mentioned.  Sisters  Campbell, 
Pye,  and  Henderson — pure,  holy,  heavenly-minded  women, 
who  enjoyed  much  heartfelt  religion,  and  whose  names  were 
like   precious   ointment   poured   forth.      Their   whole   lives 


178  STRAY    LEAVES. 

were  Bpcnt  in  deeds  of  Christian  charity.  Two  of  them 
have  long  been  in  heaven,  the  other  yet  remains  to  bless  the 
church  and  the  world. 

Sandy  Dam.  Brother  Joel  Laras}" — a  man  among  men,  a 
Methodist  whom  the  church  loves,  and  the  devil  hates — still 
lives  to  greet  his  friends  with  a  smile.  He  has  suffered  much 
in  these  troublesome  times ;  but  he  loves  the  Lord,  and  still 
holds  on  to  his  religion,  and  has  a  happy  home  above  await- 
ing his  coming. 

Tabernacle.  What  minister  has  ever  travelled  the  circuit 
— what  preacher  ever  lived  in  it — who  does  not  know  who 
are  the  heroes  of  that  church?  Brother  Elsey  Kinsey — what 
recollections  of  strong,  prevailing  prayer  does  that  name  call 
to  mind — how  well  he  and  Brother  James  Kinsey  stood  side 
by  side  in  the  good  w^ork,  eternity  will  tell.  How  they  ever 
welcomed  the  preacher;  generally  the  first  to  greet  him, 
and  help  him  with  his  horse ;  and  to  request  him  to  go  with 
them,  where  they  w^ould  do  all  they  could  to  make  him  com- 
fortable. There,  too,  was  that  good  man  and  true.  Brother 
Padget — a  happy  soul,  bound  for  the  better  world.  At  Taber- 
nacle, I  have  seen  many  glorious  meetings.  What  old-time, 
Methodist  singing  I  have  heard  ring  through  the  church 
and  the  woods  around.  That  good  man  of  Israel,  Brother 
Padget,  has  long  since  gone  to  the  rest  which  remains  for 
the  people  of  God.  The  other  two  are  still  left  to  bless  the 
church. 

I  remember  aji  amusing  thing  which  happened  to  me, 
nearly  thirty  years  ago — amusing  to  think  of  afterwards, 
but  very  unpleasant  at  the  time.  I  was  at  a  two  days' 
meeting,  with  other  brothers ;  the  house  could  not  hold  the 
congregation,  and  many  remained  out.  Two  of  the  brothers 
were  sitting  behind  me,  and  I  was  trying  to  preach.  I  had 
not  been  preaching  long,  as  I  thought,  when  I  heard  those 
behind  me  talking  in  a  low  voice.  At  first,  I  did  not  pay 
much  attention  to  it,  though  it  bothered  me.  After  a  little, 
I  thought  I  could  make  out  a  word  now  and  then,  though 
only  spoken  in  a  whisper ;  and  I  thought  I  heard,  "  it  is 
most  time  for  him  to  finish."  I  have  always  been  easily 
thrown  out.  and  confused  ;  and  being  a  young  preacher  then, 


CONFUSING   THE   PEEACHER.  179 

this  disturbed  me  very  much.  At  first,  I  felt  like  stoppino-^ 
and  not  saying  another  word ;  however,  I  made  a  great 
effort,  and  went  stumbling  on  for  some  time.  I  had  almost 
recovered,  and  began  to  hope  that  I  w^ould  get  through  with- 
out further  interruption ;  when  the  talking  again  began  in 
low  whispers.  Presently,  I  was  sure  I  heard  these  words — 
"  Brother  B.,  you  had  better  stop ;  you  have  been  long 
enough."  The  distressed  preacher  then  took  his  seat,  feel- 
ing very  much  cast  down.  I  did  not  raise  my  head  for 
several  moments.  I  was  afraid  I  had  been  at  it  more  than 
an  hour ;  but  when  I  looked  at  my  watch,  I  found  out,  to 
my  great  surprise,  I  had  not  been  preaching  thirty  minutes. 
I  was  told  afterwards,  that  the  friends  had  been  speaking 
about  something  very  different,  and  that  they  were  sorry  I 
had  been  so  disturbed.  The  Lord  bless  Tabernacle,  and  the 
two  heroes  left. 

Little  Swamp.  O  !  how  well  I  remember  the  old  church  ! 
what  times  of  rejoicing  I  have  seen  there,  and  what  happy 
seasons  I  have  witnessed  there !  I  have  often  felt  that  the 
Lord  was  with  his  poor  servant  while  preaching  his  gospel 
in  that  small  church  so  close  the  road,  and  so  near  the  little 
pond — generally  so  full  of  water  in  the  winter  and  spring, 
and  so  dry  in  the  summer  and  fall.  I  remember  an  interest- 
ing night-meeting  there  in  the  olden  time.  After  the  ser- 
vices commenced,  a  young  man  stretched  himself  at  full 
length  on  a  bench,  staring  the  preacher  in  the  face,  with  a 
vacant  smile,  which  interrupted  ^him  very  much,  for  every 
time  he  turned  that  way  he  met  that  gaze.  He  requested 
the  lounger  to  sit  up ;  but  he  still  remained  stretched  out. 
After  a  while,  I  stop^^ed,  and  said  to  him,  I  thought  I  could 
preach  a  better  sermon,  with  the  help  of  the  Lord,  if^he 
would  sit  up,  and  entreated  him  to  do  so  ;  when  he  arose  at 
once.  The  Holy  Spirit  helped,  the  church  prayed,  and  v^e 
had  a  very  fine  meeting;  and  among  the  mourners  who 
came  up,  was  that  same  young  man.  How  often  have  I  re- 
joiced with  the  brethren  at  Little  Swamp.  The  first  to  be 
mentioned  here  is  Brother  Paul  Johnson ;  but  I  do  not 
know  as  much  of  him  as  of  many  others — for  riot  long  after 
I  joined  the  church,  he  moved  to  Georgia.     He  was  an  ex- 


180  STRAY   LEAVES. 

hortcr  with  us,  but  became  a  preacher  afterwards.  While 
with  U8,  he  was  much  respected,  and  was  very  useful  and 
Buccessful  in  his  efforts  to  save  souls.  There  were  also  at 
this  church.  Brothers  Gooden,  Padget,  and  Thomas  Smith — 
men  of  hope  and  faith.  The  two  last  have  gone  to  the  land 
of  the  pious  departed.  Brother  S.  long  since  left  us.  I  res- 
pected and  esteemed  him  much,  and  he  was  worthy.  One 
evening,  while  resting  on  the  bed  (I  had  been  sick),  my 
spirits  were  quite  depressed.  I  thought  I  was  forgotten  by 
my  friends — that  they  seldom  prayed  for  me,  when  the  fol- 
lowing impression  came  on  me  very  strongly — one  of  j^our 
friends  is  now  on  his  knees  praying  for  you,  this  very  mo- 
ment, when  you  think  you  have  been  forgotten  by  all.  I  at 
once  became  lifted  up — I  was  very  happy — I  got  on  my 
knees  and  thanked  the  Lord.  I  noticed  the  hour  of  the  day. 
Several  weeks  after  this,  I  was  at  Little  Swamp,  when  Bro- 
ther Smith  asked  me  to  walk  with  him,  as  he  wished  to  see 
me  alone.  He  then  inquired,  if  on  such  an  evening,  at  a 
certain  hour,  I  had  been  cast  down,  and  thought  I  had  been 
forgotten  by  my  friends.  I  told  him  I  had  been.  He  told 
me  that  at  that  hour  he  became  impressed  that  I  was  so 
situated,  and  that  he  must  pray  for  me.  He  was  then  hard 
at  work,  and  thought  he  would  wait  till  the  regular  time  we 
had  agreed  upon  years  before,  which  was  after  sunset ;  but 
the  impression  became  stronger,  and  he  stopped,  and  turned 
aside,  and  prayed  for  me.     How  good  the  Lord  is  to  us ! 

"Wesley  Chapel.  A  place  of  note  in  the  olden  time — a 
place  of  renown  on  the  old  Walterboro  circuit.  Before  I 
joined  the  church,  camp-meetings  were  held  there ;  and 
many  of  the  old  preachers,  long  since  gone  to  heaven,  un- 
furled the  blood-besprinkled  flag  of  Calvary  there,  in  years 
that  are  past.  Men,  whose  names  will  never  die  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  South  Carolina  Conference,  preached  there,  long 
before  I  realized  the  salvation  of  my  soul.  I  have  attended 
many  interesting  meetings  at  that  place.  The  old  class- 
leader,  Brother  Eaysor,  moved  to  Georgia  years  ago,  and  I 
hope  is  now  in  a  better  world.  Brother  Fulk,  another  of 
the  old-time  men  of  God,  has  left  us.  His  eldest  son  still 
lives,  and  is  bound  for  the  better  world. 


PROVIDENCE,    MIZPAH   AND   CROSS   SWAMP.  181 

Providence.  A  dear  old  church.  What  times  of  immortal 
remembrance  I  have  seen  there — long  before  the  new  church 
was  built,  which  was  burned  during  the  late  war.  Most  of 
the  old  friends  are  gone.  Brother  Daniel  Beigler — one  of  the 
heroes  of  the  old  circuit — has  long  since  left  us  for  the  better 
land,  where  the  friends  of  Jesus  never  part,  and  where  the 
weary  are  at  rest.  Brother  Carson — the  good,  the  true,  the 
humble,  and  the  heavenly -minded  man — is  still  left ;  and  the 
veteran  still  haS  his  war-harness  on,  enduring  hardships  like 
a  good  soldier  of  Jesus  Christ.  All  hail !  to  the  old  hero  of 
Providence. 

Mizpah.  A  chief  place  on  the  old  circuit ;  and  the  first 
place  in  many  respects  on  the  Bamberg  circuit.  The  old 
church  has  long  since  been  replaced  by  a  new  one.  Dear  old 
Mizpah,  of  holy  remembrance !  how  I  loved  that  house  of 
prayer  and  praise !  How  often,  in  the  olden  time,  I  felt  the 
presence  of  the  Lord  in  my  poor  soul,  in  that  time-honored 
sanctuary!  There  were  —  Brother  George  Kirkland,  the 
whole-souled  leader ;  Dr.  Ayer,  who  started  with  me  at  Bin- 
nakers  for  the  better  world.  Brother  Kirkland  left  us  many 
years  ago  for  the  fair  fields  of  Eden — where  father  and  son 
have  long  since  embraced  in  heaven  to  part  no  more.  Two 
of  the  heroes  of  old  Mizpah  still  worship  the  Lord  in  the 
new  church.  Brother  Eeuben  Kirkland — the  quiet,  the  meek 
Christian,  the  kind-hearted  friend — still  lives,  to  ask  the 
preacher  of  the  gospel  to  his  house,  and  to  make  him  feel  at 
once  at  home  in  his  friendly  presence.  Dr.  Ayer  was  still 
alive  when  last  heard  from ;  and  though  in  another  State, 
that  war-worn  veteran  of  the  cross  has  not  forgotten  his 
friends  on  the  old  circuit.  James  Brabham — the  preacher's 
best  friend  on  the  Bamberg  circuit — a  Christian  gentleman, 
worthy  of  being  mentioned  in  the  same  breath  with  Mizpah's 
sainted  class-leader  and  his  preacher-son — W.  C.  Kirkland — 
still  lives  to  bless  the  church  and  the  world  in  these  degene- 
rate days.     May  their  names  never  be  forgotten  on  earth! 

Cross  Swamp.  Immortal  name !  The  dear  old  church, 
with  its  living  and  departed  heroes,  how  much  I  love  the 
time-honored  place,  with  its  heavenly  surroundings !  The 
friends  here  have  always  treated  me  kindly.     In  my  young 


182  STRAY    LEAVES. 

diiys  as  a  proaehor,  thc}-  ntood  near  me  to  etren^tlien  my 
hands;  and  now  tliat  1  have  ^rown  grey  on  the  walls  of 
Zion,  they  are  more  kind  than  ever.  How  can  I  forget 
them!  I  hope  the  Lord  will  enable  me  to  pray  for  them 
while  I  live,  and  to  remember  them  in  heaven.  Brother 
Aaron  Yarn,  one  of  the  old  heroen,  has  ke))t  the  faith,  has 
fought  the  good  fight,  has  finished  his  course,  and  has  gone 
to  the  paradise  above,  having  left,  among  many  others,  the 
Wandering  Arab  to  mourn  his  loss,  and  miss  him  much.  But 
the  good  man  left  loved  ones  behind,  who  are  faithfully 
walking  in  his  steps.  But,  bless  the  Lord,  some  of  the 
heroes  still  remain.  Brother  Broxton,  the  good  and  true 
man ;  Brother  Murdock,  the  Christian  veteran ;  Brother 
James  Yarn,  one  of  my  best  friends — ever  kind,  ever  true, 
ever  loving ;  Brother  L.  B.  Yarn,  my  long-tried  and  much- 
loved  friend — as  Achates  was  to  Eneas,  as  Damon  was  to 
Pythias,  as  Jonathan  was  to  David,  so  has  he  ever  been  to 
me.  We  have  stood  side  by  side,  on  a  hundred  stricken 
fields,  fighting  with  locked  shields ;  and  have  won  many  a 
hard  fought  battle — giving  all  the  glory  to  our  blessed  Sa- 
viour. Brother  Reuben  Stephens — the  last  on  the  immortal 
list  of  Cross  Swamp  heroes — worthy  of  standing  by  the  side 
of  the  greatest  of  the  Walterboro  heroes.  In  olden  times  he 
belonged  to  Buckhead ;  but  as  he  is  at  Cross  Swamj:*  now,  I 
speak  of  him  here.  Before  I  embraced  religion,  Brother 
Stephens  was  one  of  the  chief  pillars  of  the  church ;  and  all 
through  my  Christian  life,  has  been  one  of  my  best  friends. 
His  smile,  his  greeting — which  always  comes  from  his  heart, 
and  his  shake  of  the  hand,  have  always  been  to  me  as  water 
to  a  thirsty  traveller.  The  South  Carolina  Conference  has 
few  such  men  in  its  bounds,  as  far  as  I  know,  as  Eeuben 
Stephens — the  Christian  gentleman,  and  the  veteran  who 
has  ever  met  the  powers  of  darkness  in  the  face.  He  re- 
minds me  much  of  the  gallant  Caleb,  who  after  surviving  all 
the  terrors  of  the  wilderness,  stood  before  Joshua,  and  told 
him  that  he  w^as  just  as  strong  to  bear  arms  then  as  when 
he  first  left  Egypt.  One  .reason,  I  have  thought,  why  he 
has  been  spared  to  us  so  long,  is  that  the  young  men  of  the 
church  might  know  that  there  were  giants  in  the  Walter- 


THE    GIANTS   OF   THE   TIME.  183 

boro  circuit,  thirty  years  ago.  I  hope  my  friends  will  allow 
me  to  call  Brother  Thomas  Baysor,  the  Agamemnon — Bro- 
ther Ulmer,  the  Nestor — Brother  Eeuben  Stephens,  the  Ajax 
Telemon — Brother  L.  B.  Yarn,  the  Diomed — 'Old  Brother 
Aaron  Yarn,  the  Philemon — Brother  Charles  Stewart,  the 
Gains — and  Brother  James  Brabham,  the  Jonathan  of  the 
old  Walterboro  circuit. 

I  was  born  in  this  world,  in  the  town  of  Walterboro,  over 
sixty  years  ago ;  and  I  joined  the  church  in  the  bounds  of 
the  old  circuit;  and  1  have  ever  felt  desirous,  by  the  help  of 
the  Lord,  to  save  my  soul,  and  reach  heaven  at  last,  when 
my  course  is  ended. 

'*  Come,  let  us  join  our  friends  above, 

That  have  obtained  the  prize  ;  ^ 

And  on  the  eagle  wings  of  love, 

To  joys  celestial  rise  : 
Let  all  the  saints  terrestrVl  sing, 

With  those  to  glory  gon^  ; 
For  all  the  servants  of  our  King 

In  earth  and  heaven  are  one. 

''One  family  we  dwell  iu  him —  , 

One  church  above,  beneath  ;  ^ 

Though  now  divided  by  the  stream, 

The  narrow  stream  of  death. 
One  army  of  the  living  God, 

To  his  command  we  bow  ; 
Part  of  the  host  have  crossed  the  flood, 

And  part  are  crossing  now." 


ft 

y  > 


LEAF  THE  TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

A  MEMENTO  OF  MY  MOST  BELOVED  FillEND,  BROTHER  THOMAS 
RAYSOR,  THE  MODEL  STEWARD,  OR  THE  MAN  WHOSE  MANTLE 
NO    ONE    HAS    YET    BEEN    FOUND    WORTHY    TO    WEAR. 

I  have  often  thought,  that,  notwithstanding  my  very  sin- 
gular and  strange  turn  of  mind,  and  my  many  oddities,  I 
have  been  truly  blessed  of  the  Lord  with  a  great  number  of 
friends — I  expect  they  might  be  counted  by  the  hundreds — 
who  have  showed  me  much  kindness.  I  know  I  have  some- 
times been  treated  by  some  of  them  better  than  I  deserved. 
Of  all  these  dear  friends  of  mine,  I  have  always  regarded 
Brother  Thomas  Eaysor  as  my  first  and  my  best-beloVed  ; 
and  w^hen  he  left  this  y^le  of  tears  to  enter  the  rest  that 
remains  for  the  people  of  Grod,  I  lost  my  dearest  friend.  I 
have  often  been  requested  by  some  of  my  friends — both 
preachers  and  others — to  write  down  some  of  the  events  of 
my  past  life ;  and  for  many  years  I  have  been  thinlving  of 
doing  so;  but  did  not  begin  the  work  until  a  few  months  ago. 
I  have  already  spoken  of  several  of  my  friends  who  have 
gone  to  heaven ;  and  I  would  feel  ashamed  of  myself,  and 
feel  that  I  had  almost  committed  a  sin,  if  I  said  nothing 
in  these  Stray  Leaves  of  Thomas  Eaysor. 

I  was  in  the  church  for  some  time  before  I  became  inti- 
matel}'  acquainted  with  him.  He  was  then  one  of  the  chief 
stewards  of  the  circuit,  and  had  been  for  years  before ;  and 
he  always  had  the  interests  of  the  preachers  and  of  the 
church  at  large,  near  his  heart.  His  house,  his  heart,  and 
his  noble  soul  Avere  always  open,  to  welcome,  to  encourage, 
and  befriend  the  preacher  of  the  gospel.  But  Thomas  Eay- 
sor has  gone,  and  I  am  left  still  to  feel  and  mourn  his  ab- 
sence ;  but  he  is  often  thought  of,  often  remembered.  While 
he  was  here,  if  I  was  in  trouble,  I  would  go  to  him  for  com- 
fort ;  if  I  was  happy,  I  wished  to  share  my  pleasure  with 
him ;  if  I  v^anted  advice,  I  went  to  him  for  it :  and  now  that 
he  is  no  more  with  me,  I  feel  that  the  earthly  arm  on  which 


EIDING  A   CIECUIT.  185 

I  loved  to  lean  is  removed.  I  sometimes  fancy  he  is  near 
me,  very  near ;  and  I  can  almost  imagine  I  still  hear  him 
speaking  to  me. 

I  have  often  felt,  that  if  all  the  circuits  in  the  South  Caro- 
lina Conference,  however  bad  the  prospect,  were  only  blessed 
with  one  man  like  Thomas  Eaysor,  the  preachers  would  be 
much  better  provided  for  than  they  are. 

Near  thirty  years  ago,  one  of  the  preachers  on  our  circuit, 
through  affliction  in  his  family,  had  to  leave  his  work  j  and 
I  think  it  was  by  Brother  Eaysor's  advice,  the  quarterly 
conference  requested  me  to  take  his  place  for  the  time ;  and 
from  that  time  I  became  warmly  attached  to  him.  Let  me 
show  what  influence  he  had  over  me.  I  have  always  pre- 
ferred my  roving  life  as  a  preacher,  to  regular  circuit  work. 
Three  times  he  advised  me  to  go  on  a  circuit,  and  I  yielded 
each  time,  as  he  thought  it  was  for  the  best.  I  remember  a 
rather  amusing  circumstance,  connected  with  one  of  those 
times. 

Our  presiding  elder,  Brother  Walker,  met  me  some  dis- 
tance from  home,  and  requested  me  to  take  the  place  of  a 
preacher,  whose  ill-health  compelled  him  to  leave  his  work. 
Brother  Eaysor  was  there,  and  I  told  Brother  W.  I  would 
be  governed  by  Brother  Eaysor's  advice.  He  asked  me  if  I 
would  not  first  consult  my  wife.  I  told  him,  she  would  send 
me  to  Brother  E.  I  then  went  to  Brother  E.,  who  was  near 
by,  and  he  told  me  to  fill  the  vacancy,  which  I  did.  After  I 
got  through  the  six  months  on  the  circuit,  I  met  Brother  E. 
at  a  meeting,  and  took  him  aside,  and  told  him  I  had  a 
request  to  make  of  him,  and  that  he  must  grant  it  before 
knowing  what  it  was — that  he  could  do  so  very  well  if  he 
would.  He  paused  some  time ;  but  at  last  said  he  would  do 
so.  I  told  him,  that  three  times  in  my  life  I  had  gone  on  a 
circuit  by  his  advice ;  that  I  did  not  like  it  as  well  as  my 
roving  life ;  and  entreated  him  never  to  advise  me  to  do  it 
again.  He  said  tliat  he  would  not,  and  left  me  for  a  little 
while,  but  returned  again,  and  said  that  he  and  a  brother 
present  had  a  request  to  make  of  me,  and  that  I  must  grant 
it  before  knowing  what  it  was.  I  could  not  refuse.  He  said, 
I  must  accept  of  a  suit  of  clothes  from  them. 
12 


18(3  STRAY   LEAVESc 

He  not  only  gave  liberally  himself,  but  influenced  others 
to  do  the  same.  More  than  once  in  the  olden  time,  have  I 
gone  to  the  class-steward  to  pay  my  subscription  for  the 
preacher,  when  I  would  be  told  that  a  brother  had  been 
there  and  settled  it  for  me.  I  knew  full  well  who  the  bro- 
ther was.  I  once  spoke  to  him  about  it ;  but  he  said,  his 
feelings  would  be  hurt  unless  I  would  let  him  have  his  own 
way ;  and  so  I  had  to  give  up  more  than  once.  I  have  been 
present  when  collections  were  being  taken  up  for  Missions, 
when  he  would  say,  "  I  give  so  much  for  myself,  and  so 
much  for  a  brother,"  nodding  to  me.  I  knew  him  so  well, 
that  I  said  nothing. 

When  with  him,  I  felt  more  at  home  than  with  any  ot^iei*i 
man.  He  enjoyed  religion,  both  in  public  and  private  liftf)^ 
and  he  believed  in  a  whole-souled,  heart-felt  Christian^:. 
He  had  a  wife,  who  was  worthy  of  him  in  every  respect  ;• 
and  they  lived  very  happily  together  for  years ;  but  death 
separated  them  at  last — and  she  w^as  called  to  the  happy 
land,  far,  ftxr  away.  I  remember  well  the  last  night  I  stayed 
with  them,  before  she  was  taken  from  us.  Brother  R.  and 
myself  sat  up  some  time  after  the  family  had  retired ;  and 
we  were  sitting  near  together — the  fire  having  nearly  died 
out.  AYe  were  sj^eaking  of  persons  leaving  the  church  ;  and, 
as  if  suddenly  moved  by  a  strong  impulse,  he  said,  "  Well, 
brother,  I  would  rather  see  jou  dead,  and  unburied  before 
my  gate,  and  the  birds  plucking  out  your  eyes — as  much  as 
I  love  you — than  to  see  you  quit  the  church,  and  go  back 
to  the  world."     He  always  spoke  out  what  was  in  his  heart. 

Not  many  weeks  after  this,  his  wife  was  called  to  her 
reward  on  high,  so  that  I  never  saw  her  again ;  but  she  left 
this  world  fully  prepared  for  heaven.  Only  a  few  hours 
before  her  death,  she  told  her  husband,  she  was  ready  and 
willing  to  go ;  and  sent  her  last  message  to  me — that  I  must 
never  quit  the  church,  and  must  meet  her  in  heaven  ;  that  I 
must  pray  for  her  husband  and  children  every  night,  before 
retiring  to  rest.  In  after  years,  Brother  R.  married  again, 
a  very  worthy  and  respectable  lady. 

I  have  been  at  many  very  interesting  meetings  with  Bro- 
ther R.,  and  his  heart  was  always  engaged  in  the  work  of 


FORMING   A   COMPACT.  187 

the  Lord.  I  remember  well,  a  meeting  many  years  ago,  at 
Swallow  Savannah.  It  was  a  time  of  refreshing  from  the 
presence  of  the  Lord;  and  he  seemed  to  enjoy  himself  very 
much.  One  day,  we  were  alone,  and  he  told  me  he  wished 
to  speak  to  me  on  a  particular  subject.  He  said,  that  he 
knew  some  of  his  friends  thought  he  might  be  prevailed  on 
to  quit  our  church,  and  join  another;  but  that  he  was  re- 
solved, by  God's  help,  to  live  and  die  where  he  was.  And 
then  he  said  to  me,  that  some  thought,  by  family  influence, 
I,  too,  might  join  another  church ;  but  he  said  he  did  not 
believe  it.  He  then  told  me,  he  wished  to  make  a  bargain 
with  me  before  the  Lord,  in  whose  presence  we  then  were — 
that  we  must  solemnly  pledge  ourselves  to  it.  It  was  this  : 
if  either  of  us  ever  felt  like  leaving  our  church,  he  must  send 
for  the  other — who  must  come,  and  remain  with  him  until 
he  prevailed  on  him  to  remain  where  he  was.  I  agreed  with 
him,  and  we  shook  hands  on  it.  ''  Now,"  said  he,  "  if  any 
one  should  tell  me,  and  offer  to  swear  to  it  on  the  Bible, 
that  you  were  going  to  leave  our  church,  I  would  not  believe 
one  word  of  it,  unless  you  first  sent  me  word  to  come,"  I 
feel  the  impression  of  that  pledge  as  strong  now  as  if  he 
was  still  with  me. 

Many  years  ago,  I  was  taken  very  sick,  and  was  brought 
very  near  the  grave.  Several  physicians  were  with  me,  and 
all  expected  me  to  die.  My  brother,  Dr.  Bellinger,  was  with 
me  several  days ;  and  he  said,  at  one  time  he  did  not  think 
I  had  more  than  two  hours  to  live.  While  in  my  right 
mind,  I  felt  much  of  the  presence  of  the  Lord,  and  the  com- 
forts of  religion;  and  my  dear  Brother  Eaysor  was  with  me 
day  and  night,  to  pray  for  me,  and  to  wait  on  me  to  the  last. 
He  never  gave  me  up ;  he  said  he  had  been  praying  much 
for  me,  and  that  he  had  faith  to  believe  I  would  recover. 
He  told  my  wife  several  times,  that  the  Lord  would  spare 
me  to  her;  that  I  would  recover  my  health;  and  that  he 
would  often  hear  me  preach  again.  I  think  his  prayers, 
with  those  of  many  others,  had  much  to  do  with  my  recov- 
ery. He  never  came  to  see  me,  while  I  was  sick,  without 
stopping  to  entreat  the  Lord  in  private  for  me.  The  Lord 
spared  me ;  I  was  raised  up  again ;  the  prayers  of  my  many 


188  STRAY  LEAVES. 

friends  were  heard ;  and,  O !  how  much  nearer  to  my  heart 
was  Brother  Eaysor  afterwards  than  before. 

But  the  much-loved  brother  of  my  soul  has  left  me.  He 
departed  this  life  several  years  ago,  full  of  peace  and  holy 
joy,  to  the  realms  of  endless  day.  By  his  death,  a  great 
vacuum  was  made,  both  in  the  church  and  the  world — one 
that  never  has  been,  and  perhaps  never  will  be,  filled.  He 
left  his  mantle  behind ;  but  no  one  has  yet  been  found  wor- 
thy to  wear  it. 

Brother  Eaysor  was  so  generous,  so  merciful,  that  while  I 
think  of  him,  he  recalls  the  words  of  the  poet — 

•'  The  quality  of  mercy  is  not  strained  ; 
It  droppeth  as  the  gentle  dew  from  heaven 
Upon  the  place  beneath.     It  blesseth  him 
That  gives,  and  him  that  takes." 

I  think  of  him,  perhaps  every  time  I  pass  his  old  home — 
where  his  eldest  son  now  lives ;  and  I  generally  uncover  my 
head.  O !  how  much  I  miss  my  departed  brother,  in  these 
days  of  privation  and  trouble ! 

Farewell !  Brother  Thomas  Eaysor !  I  hope  your  happy 
spirit  will  be  near  when  my  hour  comes.  Thy  departed 
children,  I  trust,  are  now  with  thee  in  glory ;  and  those  left 
behind,  I  hope,  will  meet  thee  there. 

*^  Thy  life  was  gentle  ;  and  the  elements 
So  mixed  in  thee,  that  Nature  might  stand  up, 
And  say  to  all  the  world — Thou  wast  a  man. ' ' 


LEAF  THE  TWENTY-NINTH. 

CAMDEN  ;    MEETINGS  AT   SALEM    CAMP-GROUND,   AND    LANCASTER 
COURT-HOUSE. 

In  the  early  part  of  1840,  I  attended  an  annual  conference 
at  Camden,  held  by  Bishop  Andrew,  where  I  was  ordained 
local  deacon — which  was  a  very  serious,  solemn  service  to 
me,  and  one  which  I  hope  I  will  never  forget ;  for,  O !  what 
searching  of  heart  I  had  on  that  holy  Sabbath.  The  Bishop's 
sermon  made  quite  a  strong  impression  on  my  mind.  I  had 
never  seen  him  but  once  before — which  was  at  a  camp- 
meeting  near  Bethel  church,  on  the  Blackville  circuit,  some 
years  before.  I  remember  very  little  of  the  service,  how- 
ever, for  at  that  time  I  was  a  very  wicked  young  man,  and 
paid  little  respect  to  the  services.  It  did  not  then  seem  pro- 
bable that  in  a  few  years  I  would  be  ordained  deacon  by  him. 

Several  years  after  my  first  visit,  I  attended  a  quarterly 
meeting  in  Camden ;  Brother  Talley  was  the  presiding  elder, 
and  my  much-respected  friend.  Brother  S.  M.  Green,  was  in 
charge  of  the  church.  Brother  Murchison  was  also  present. 
One  day,  while  I  was  preaching,  a  powerful  impression  rest- 
ed on  the  congregation,  and  several  of  the  brethren  became 
very  happy,  and  exulted  in  the  Lord  their  Redeemer. 

Some  days  after,  I  left  for  Salem  camp-ground,  in  Lan- 
caster District,  which  was  a  famous  place  in  the  olden  time. 
It  was  situated  on  the  direct  stage  route  from  Camden  to 
Lancaster.  This  was  the  first  of  several  fine  meetings  which 
I  attended  at  that  place.  Let  me  mention  the  names  of 
several  friends  whom  I  met  there  for  the  first  time.  Bro- 
ther Simon  Eraser,  a  local  preacher,  was  there — a  good, 
whole-souled,  thorough-going  man,  with  whom  I  was  quite 
pleased  ;  but  he  has  long  since  gone  to  the  realms  above.  I 
also  met  the  Rev.  Dr.  Langley  and  his  family,  and  have  al- 
ways been  happy  to  number  them  with  my  friends.  He  is 
a  gentleman  of  intelligence  and  refinement,  very  courteous 
in  his  manners.     His  wife  and  daughters  are  also  very  plea- 


100  STRAY    LEAVES. 

8ant  and  kind  to  their  friends.  1  there  heeame  aequaintod 
with  two  brothers,  by  the  name  of  Cauthen — one  of  whom 
was  a  worthy  member  of  our  Conferenee  ;  and  the  other  was 
a  man  of  weight,  both  in  the  ehnrch  and  in  the  State.  There, 
too,  was  the  class-leader — an  Israelite  without  blemish  or 
reproach  ;  and  I  regard  it  as  a  fortunate  moment  for  me 
Avhen  I  became  acquained  with  Brother  Beckham.  I  once 
went  from  Camden  to  the  camp-ground  in  the  stage,  in 
which  I  found  some  very  unpleasant  passengers,  who  knew 
I  was  a  preacher,  and  behaved  very  badly,  thereby  disturb- 
ing me  very  much ;  but  I  concluded  it  was  best  not  to  re- 
prove them,  as  I  thought  it  would  be  casting  pearls  before 
swine.  O,  how  I  longed  for  deliverance  from  my  distressing 
position  !  But  at  last  I  reached  the  ground ;  and  how  thank- 
ful I  felt,  when  the  friends  gathered  around  me  with  their 
friendly  greeting!  At  times,  the  Holy  Spirit  came  down 
powerfully  upon  the  congregation ;  and  we  had  very  sweet 
singing  at  the  stand,  in  the  tents,  and  in  the  woods.  "What 
great  crowds  were  there  on  Saturday  and  Sunday ;  and  the 
preached  word  found  its  way  to  the  heart  of  many  a  har- 
dened sinner  who  had  been  so  long  indifferent  as  to  cause 
their  friends  to  lose  all  hope. 

I  was  once  present  at  a  protracted  meeting,  held  in  the 
church,  at  the  same  place.  It  was  a  time  of  mucii  interest ; 
the  Eternal  Spirit  was  abroad  ;  and  my  faith  was  strong  and 
lively.  The  work  of  the  Lord  was  reviving  in  my  soul.  Sin- 
ners trembled,  mourners  wept.  Christians  rejoiced,  and  the 
angels  were  waiting  to  bear  the  glad  news  to  heaven,  that 
souls  were  converted,  and  prodigals  were  returning  home. 
A  lady  was  present,  a  member  of  the  Baptist  church,  who 
had  a  very  wicked  son  in  the  crowd,  and  it  seemed  that  no- 
thing could  move  him — neither  the  joys  of  heaven,  nor  the 
horrors  of  hell,  appeared  to  make  any  impression.  He  seemed 
almost  beyond  the  reach  of  Divine  influence.  His  mother 
entreated  me  to  persuade  him,  if  possible,  to  come  to  the 
altar  ;  and  I  made  several  efforts,  but  all  in  vain.  I  became 
very  sorry  for  her;  for  she  was  still  very  urgent  in  her  re- 
quest that  I  should  try  him  again.  ^  The  meeting  was  still 
going  on ;  and  I  went  to  him  once  ^ore,  and  knelt  down 


HOW   A  YOUNG   MAN   WAS   BROUGHT   IN.  191 

before  him,  and  implored  him  to  yield  to  be  saved — but  all 
in  vain.  lie  smiled  in  my  face.  "I  suspect,"  says  one,  "that 
the  Wandering  Arab  then  left  him  to  his  fate."  I  became 
more  determined  to  win  him,  if  possible,  for  his  mother,  and 
for  the  church  ;  but  I  changed  my  programme.  The  meeting 
went  on  with  blessed  results,  the  vStrange  Preacher  taking 
no  more  notice  of  the  young  man  than  if  he  was  not  present  ; 
but  in  secret  praying  much  for  him.  The  time  had  not  yet 
come  for  me  to  make  my  last  effort.  Many  weeping  souls 
were  happily  converted  ;  others  were  still  seeking  the  Sa- 
viour, sorrowing  ;  and  the  gospel  was  still  winning  its  way 
to  the  hearts  of  the  people.  Hard-hearted  sinners  were 
deeply  wounded  by  the  arrows  of  the  Spirit,  and  were  flee- 
ing the  wrath  to  come.  But  still  that  young  man  stayed 
away,  and  I  still  continued  to  treat  him  with  indifference. 
His  mother  had  lost  all  hope  of  ever  seeing  her  dear  son 
seeking  the  salvation  of  his  soul.  But  the  Saviour  had  tasted 
death  for  him,  and  the  Holy  Spirit  had  not  finally  departed. 
The  Strange  Preacher  was  ready  to  make  his  last  effort. 
There  appeared  to  be  a  more  general  impression  on  the  con- 
gregation than  at  any  time  previous.  The  camp  of  Israel 
was  moving,  at  the  command  of  the  Lord,  to  glorious  vic- 
tory. .Mourners  were  called  up.  Three  young  men  were 
sitting  near  the  centre  of  the  middle  aisle ;  the  young  man 
already  alluded  to  occupied  the  middle  sea-t.  I  offered  one 
silent,  brief  prayer  to  the  Heavenly  Father,  and  walked  up 
to  the  group,  and  spoke  to  the  one  on  the  right,  and  then 
turnecl  to  the  one  on  the  left — but  said  not  a  word  to  him. 
I  told  them,  there  was  mercy  for  them  if  they  would  yield ; 
and  shook  hands  with  them,  hoping  to  meet  them  in  heaven 
— ^but  I  took  not  the  slightest  notice  of  the  middle  one,  while 
his  mother  wept  and  prayed.  I  returned  to  the  altar,  and 
faced  the  congregation.  O,  my  soul !  what  did  I  then  see  ? 
That  young  man  rushed  up  to  the  altar,  crying  out  aloud — 
"  Mr.  Bellinger,  you  said  nothing  to  me  j  you  took  no  notice 
of  me ;  and  I  know  you  have  no  hope  of  me.  But,  O !  sir, 
you  must  pray  for  me,  whether  you  want  to  or  not."  That 
happy  mother  rejoiced  over  her  returning  son  ;  and  the  holy 
angels  joined  with  her  in  her  thanksgiving. 


192  STRAY    LEAVES. 

Let  mo  now  tell  yon  of  the  meeting  at  Lancaster  court- 
house, in  the  unfinished  church.  There  was  a  gentleman 
of  high  standing  there,  who,  with  his  wife,  was  quite  im- 
pressed by  the  preached  word.  The  class-leader  told  me, 
that  ho  had  never  before  seen  him  so  much  interested ;  and 
that,  having  taken  quite  a  fancy  to  me,  he  wished  to  be  in- 
troduced. Strange  to  say,  I,  too,  was  drawn  towards  him 
from  the  very  first.  1  have  often  been  thus  impressed  with 
strangers  who  were  not  in  the  church,  and  felt  a  strong  de- 
sire for  their  salvation.  I  have  often  thought,  there  was  a 
preacher  for  every  sinner ;  that  is,  that  the  Holy  Spirit  will 
by  some  means  or  other,  reach  every  heart ;  and  that,  if  one 
minister  does  not,  by  the  grace  of  God,  another  will ;  that 
one  sinner  will  be  convicted  by  a  sermon,  which  will  have 
no  effect  on  others ;  that  a  man  must  be  awakened  before  he 
can  be  lost.  The  class-leader  told  me,  that  quite  to  his  sur- 
prise, this  gentleman  was  carried  away  with  the  Strange 
Preacher ;  and  told  me,  if  invited,  to  go  home  with  him ;  for 
there  never  had  been  a  Methodist  preacher  invited  to  his 
house.  One  night,  the  said  person  came  to  me,  and  re- 
quested me  to  spend  the  next  day  with  him ;  and  to  bring 
my  friend  with  me.  So  Brother  McC.  and  myself  went  to 
his  house,  on  the  last  day  of  my  stay — for  I  was  then  to 
leave  for  a  camp-meeting  which  I  had  promised  to  attend. 
I  found  out  that  the  Lord  was  powerfully  at  work  with  him. 
One  night  at  church,  he  rose  up  involuntarily,  and  stood 
during  a  portion  of  the  sermon.  While  at  his  house,  he  se- 
lected religious  subjects  for  conversation.  The  gentleman 
himself  said  to  me,  that  he  had  never  been  so  deeply  inter- 
ested— that  he  had  leard  of  me  often,  and  always  felt  a 
desire  to  see  me — that  he  felt  more  drawn  towards  me  than 
to  any  other  preacher — and  was  convinced,  if  he  could  hear 
me  preach  a  few  more  sermons,  he  would  be  converted,  and 
afterwards  join  our  church ;  as  he  considered  it  wrong  to 
unite  with  the  church  before  conversion.  I  told  him,  I  united 
with  the  church  before  I  got  religion ;  and  others  had  done 
the  same,  and  realized  the  blessing  soon  after;  and  that  if 
such  a  course  was  sinful,  the  Lord  would  never  have  forgiven 
them.     We  were  treated  with  much  kindness  both  by  him 


THE   AWAKENED   HUSBAND   AND   WIFE.  193 

and  his  wife ;  and  they  pressed  me  to  remain,  and  attend 
the  Salem  camp-meeting,  which  was  to  take  place  in  a  few 
days — as  they  believed  if  I  would  go  there,  they  would  re- 
ceive the  blessing,  and  be  ready  to  join  the  church.  I  told 
them  there  was  danger  in  thus  putting  too  much  trust  in  a 
weak  arm  of  flesh ;  for  the  minister  was  nothing  without  the 
help  of  the  Lord,  but  was  only  the  mouth  through  which  he 
spoke ;  and  unless  the  Spirit  was  in  the  word  all  would  be 
vain.  He  called  me,  his  preacher ;  and  said  I  was  sent  to 
him ;  and  if  1  went  to  the  camp-meeting,  he  would  be  con- 
verted. My  feelings  were  much  wrought  upon,  and  I  wished 
much  to  stay,  for  I  thought  there  was  work  for  me.  He  had 
great  searchings  of  heart  on  the  salvation  of  his  soul ;  and  I 
was  the  humble  instrument  in  his  conviction ;  but  my  word 
was  out,  and  I  was  expected  elsewhere.  A  few  moments 
before  we  started  for  church,  they  both  abruptly  left,  and 
retired  to  their  room — and  I  at  once  thought  they  had  gone 
to  pray.  After  a  while,  they  returned,  holding  each  other's 
hand,  and  walked  up  to  me  with  tears  in  their  eyes,  and 
once  more  entreated  me  to  stay  to  the  camp-meeting.  He 
said,  they  had  retired  to  pray  for  themselves  ;  and  said  he 
thought  he  knew  a  plan  by  which  I  could  be  persuaded  to 
remain ;  that  he  told  his  wife  in  the  room,  if  they  would  join 
the  church  that  night,  he  thought  I  would  stay,  but  he  did 
not  wish  to  do  so  until  he  had  obtained  religion.  He  asked 
me  if  that  would  induce  me  to  remain.  1  told  him,  I  would 
be  very  glad  to  see  it ;  but  I  had  to  fulfill  my  promise.  "We 
had  a  gracious,  solemn  time,  and  the  Lord  was  with  his  ser- 
vant while  preaching  his  last  sermon.  They  knelt  at  their 
seats  for  prayer,  but  did  not  join  the  church ;  and  the  meet- 
ing was  closed.  They  again  implored  me  to  stay ;  but  we 
parted,  and  I  never  saw  them  again,  I  was  quite  cast  down 
in  spirit ;  but  how  much  more  so  would  I  have  been  had  I 
then  known  what  was  to  happen  in  a  few  days. 

After  I  got  home,  I  received  a  letter  from  a  friend,  inform- 
ing me  of  the  camp-meeting  at  Salem — what  a  good  time 
they  had,  and  how  much  the  friends  enjoyed  themselves ; 
and  that  this  gentleman  and  lady  were  much  disappointed 
that  I  was  not  there.     They  still  continued  to  hope  I  would 


19  i  ,        STRAY    LEAVES. 

come.  There  had  been  much  good  done ;  but  the  poor  Major 
went  over  the  ground  like  a  lost  man  in  a* crowd,  Having,  his 
preacher  was  not  there — if  he  could  only  hear  him  once 
more,  he  would  get  religion,  and  then  join  the  church.  They 
felt  sorry  for  him.  He  would  sometimes  leave  the  stand  be- 
fore the  sermon  was  over,  and  roam  all  over  the  ground ; 
and  sometimes  would  come  to  him  (the  writer),  and  say — 
*'  O !  Mr.  Beckham,  I  am  sorry  my  preacher  has  not  come." 
He  left  the  camp-ground,  and  went  home  in  the  same  state 
of  mind.  In  a  few  days  after,  he  was  taken  suddenly  ill,  and 
died  in  a  few  moments,  without  speaking  a  word. 

It  was  the  saddest  news  I  ever  heard — the  death  of  one 
whom  I  had  only  seen  for  the  first  time  just  a  few  days  be- 
fore. I  cannot  describe  my  feelings.  How  much  I  wished  I 
had  remained !  But  I  hoped  for  the  best,  knowing  how  mer- 
ciful the  Lord  is  ;  slow  to  anger,  and  plenteous  in  redemption. 

I  learned  a  lesson  from  that  sad  event,  which  I  hope  I  will 
never  forget.  I  think  preachers  do  w^rong  in  leaving  meet- 
ings of  much  interest,  where  there  is  evident^  work  for 
them  to  do,  and  where  they  are  much  impressed  by  their 
own  feelings  to  remain,  and  yet  leave  merely  to  fulfill  a  pro- 
mise. It  really  seems  to  me  that  there  are  preachers  to  suit 
every  sinner ;  so  that  every  one  will  be  left  without  an  ex. 
cuse.  I  often  hear  of  persons,  who  have  listened  to  the  same 
minister  for  years,  manifesting  very  little  interest  about  reli- 
gion ;  and  when  another  came,  they  become  more  deeply 
interested  than  ever  before,  and,  finally,  are  happily  con- 
verted, while  others  still  remain  unmoved. 

Of  all  the  meetings  I  ever  left  with  the  greatest  reluct- 
ance, were  those  of  Cane  Creek  and  Lancaster  camp-grounds, 
and  I  have  always  regretted  doing  so ;  but  what  is  past  can- 
not be  recalled.  O !  no  ;  the  past  will  never  be  seen  again, 
till  at  the  judgment  bar  we  meet ;  and,  O !  that  it  may  not 
condemn  us  there.  O  !  blessed  Father,  condemn  us  not  for 
the  past,  the  present,  or  the  future,  for  the  sake  of  thy  Son, 
Jesus  Christ. 


LEAF  THE  THIETIETH. 

THE  STRANGE  PREACHER  COUNTING  CHICKENS  BEFORE  THEY 
WERE  HATCHED  ;  OR,  EXPECTING  GREAT  THINGS,  WAS  QUITE 
DISAPPOINTED. 

My  friends,  I  have  been  telling  you  of  very  many  good 
meetings ;  but  now,  suppose  you  look  at  the  other  side  of 
the  picture,  for  variety's  sake.  Let  me  tell  you  of  my 
counting  chickens  before  they  were  hatched — where  things 
passed  off  very  differently  to  what  I  expected.  I  tell  you 
these  things  to  show  you  the  whole  man.  I  have  already 
spoken  of  the  best  meeting  I  ever  attended — not  even  ex- 
cepting old  Binnakers,  where  I  was  converted — which  w^as 
my  first  visit  to  Cane  Creek.  Now,  let  me  mention  one 
which  was  the  poorest  I  ever  attended,  as  far  as  my  feelings 
were  concerned.  Would  you  think  it  possible,  that  it  was 
the  next  one  I  was  at,  after  I  left  Cane  Creek  ?  You  say, 
that  is  very  strange.  Still  it  is  true;  but  I  have  never  been 
able  to  account  for  it,  unless  it  was — which  I  am  rather 
afraid  was  the  case — that  I  did  wrong  in  leaving,  and  the 
Lord  intended  it  as  a  punishment  and  lesson  for  me.  Let  us 
moralize  a  little  here.  What  a  picture  of  human  life !  look 
at  it.  To-day,  we  are  as  happy  and  contented  as  we  well 
can  be,  in  this  troublesome  world,  every  thing  is  bright 
around  us ;  the  flowers  are  inviting  us  to  admire  them ;  birds 
are  singing  so  sweetly,  that  we  wonder  where  they  learned 
their  songs ;  the  winds  are  blowing  so  gently,  that  we 
scarcely  feel  them  as  they  kiss  our  cheeks.  But  the  morrow 
Cometh  ;  and,  O,  what  a  change  it  brings  !  You  cannot  tell 
how  or  why  it  is  so,  that  you  are  cast  down,  and  ill  at  ease ; 
and  you  expect  every  moment  to  see  or  hear  something  to 
distress  you.  The  woods  are  silent  and  gloomy ;  the  birds 
are  gone ;  you  see  no  sweet  flowers  ;  and  the  persons  whom 
you  meet  do  not  look  kindly  at  you ;  and  you,  more  than 
once,  feel  if  you  still  have  your  purse ;  the  winds  are  now 
raging  through  the  forast,  and  there  is  no  friendly  shelter 


196  STRAY   LEAVES. 

near.  Such  is  man's  life  in  this  vale  of  tears.  O !  who  that 
has  a  homo  in  heaven,  would  live  always  here?  Yes,  so  it 
was ;  the  coldest  and  most  uninteresting  meeting  I  ever  was 
at,  followed  the  very  best  I  ever  enjoyed. 

Let  us  go  back  to  the  evening  I  left  Cane  Creek,  in  spite 
of  all  opposition.  I  have  told  you  how  sorry  I  was  to  leave ; 
and  how  I  turned  back  more  than  once,  and  went  so  near  as 
to  see  the  people  on  the  ground ;  but  at  last  turned  round 
again,  and  went  off.  I  felt  all  the  time  that  I  was  doing 
wrong,  but  still  I  would  go ;  for  I  had  had  but  little  experi- 
ence in  such  things,  and  was  expecting  the  meeting  to  which 
I  was  going  to  be  a  good  one — not  thinking  it  could  be  other- 
wise— and  though  sorry  that  1  had  to  leave,  I  was  comforted 
with  the  thought  that  I  would  realise  the  same  thing  again, 
and  was  full  of  the  love  of  the  Lord.  I  went  on,  rejoicing  in 
the  hope  of  immortality  beyond  this  vale  of  sorrows — at 
times  clapping  my  hands,  and  shouting  aloud ;  and  then 
again,  a  slight  change  would  come  over  me — something 
seeming  to  say,  "  You  did  wrong  in  leaving,  when  your  old 
schoolmate  entreated  you  to  stay ;  and  when  the  young  man 
came  up  with  his  sisters,  you  should  have  given  up."  This 
troubled  me  much ;  but  then  I  would  say,  "  It  will  never  do 
to  break  my  promise ;  and  after  all,  I  am  going  to  a  meeting 
where  I  expect  to  enjoy  myself  as  well  as  I  did  at  the  one 
left  behind — I  count  on  there  being  a  great  revival  there ; 
and  the  word  will  be  preached  with  the  same  power,  and 
the  same  effect — mourners  will  crowd  the  altar,  and  many  of 
them  be  happily  converted ;  and  the  holy  angels  will  carry 
the  glad  news  to  heaven  as  often  as  they  did  at  Cane  Creek." 
I  have  thought,  if  I  had  only  known  what  was  to  be  the 
true  state  of  things,  I  would  have  gone  back  to  old  Cane 
Creek,  and  seen  the  end  of  the  best  camp-meeting  I  ever 
attended. 

That  night  I  stayed  at  a  place  not  far  from  Broad  river. 
It  was  late  when  I  got  there ;  and  I  had  to  sleep  in  an  upper 
room,  that  was  quite  high  from  the  lower  floor — ^the  stairs 
having  no  railing  round  them.  The  next  morning,  I  got  up 
before  it  was  light  enough  to  see ;  I  said  my  praj^'ers,  and 
was   hastening   down,  and   only  saved  myself  by  a  great 


MY   HARP  UPON  THE  WILLOWS.  197 

effort.  I  have  never  forgotten  my  danger,  and  the  deliver- 
ance granted  to  me.  If  that  had  happened  to  an  old  Eoman, 
he  would  have  gone  no  further,  but  would  have  regarded  it 
as  a  bad  omen.  I  wish  I  had  turned  back ;  but  I  still  kept 
up  my  feelings  by  praying  often.  I  counted  on  a  great  re- 
vival— 1  thought  it  could  not  be  otherwise. 

I  had  never  before  been  to  the  place ;  and  did  not  expect 
to  know  but  two  persons  on  the  ground,  and  they  were 
preachers.  I  stopped — as  I  always  do  on  reaching  a  camp- 
ground— and  prayed  to  Israel's  God,  and  asked  that  the  first 
person  I  met  might  be  one  of  the  two  preachers,  so  that  I 
might  be  presented  to  others  by  him.  When  I  reached  the 
ground,  I  found  the  congregation  at  the  stand,  and  I  went 
to  the  preachers'  tent.  The  door  was  closed ;  I  opened  it, 
and  found  one  person  within,  who  proved  to  be  one  of  my 
acquaintances. 

Before  I  reached  the  place,  I  thought  I  felt  a  slight  change 
coming  over  my  feelings — I  became  depressed;  and  I  have 
thought  it  was  a  foreshadowing  of  what  was  to  be — some 
small  hint  that  the  meeting  would  not  be  as  good  as  I  ex- 
pected. I  have  sometimes  suspected  that  one  reason  why 
the  prayer  was  answered  about  meeting  the  preacher,  was 
because  it  was  to  be  the  last  time  my  soul  would  be  blessed 
at  that  meeting.  I  soon  found  out  that  the  meeting  was 
dragging  heavily.  This  affected  my  spirits  somewhat.  In 
spite  of  all  I  could  do,  my  good  feelings  were  gradually 
leaving  me.  That  camp-meeting  was  a  great  failure.  Both 
preachers  and  people  seemed  to  be  but  little  interested. 
There  was  very  little  singing  during  the  services ;  and  I 
became  still  more  discouraged,  and  at  last  grew  quite  as 
indifferent  as  others.  The  preaching  was  good — some  of  it 
excellent ;  but  there  seemed  to  be  no  Holy  Ghost  in  it — that 
was  the  trouble.  I  thought  the  meeting  got  worse  after  my 
arrival,  and  I  was  very  sorry  I  had  corae ;  for  I  felt  I  had 
done  wrong  in  leaving  Cane  Creek.  My  harp  was  on  the 
willows ;  and  I  never  can  forget  how  cold  I  became  as  the 
time  passed  on.  Everybody  decided  that  the  meeting  was 
a  great  failure.  It  was  quite  a  disappointment  to  me ;  and 
my  high  expectations  all  fell  to  the  ground.     The  Strange 


198  STRAY   LEAVES. 

Preacher  certainly  counted  his  chickenn  that  time  before 
they  were  hatched ;  and  I  have  always  regarded  it  as  the 
coldest  meeting  I  ever  attended. 

The  next  great  failure — at  least,  so  far  as  my  feelings  were 
concerned — was  the  one  I  was  at  after,  I  left  Lancaster  court- 
house, and  declined  going  to  the  Salem  camp-meeting,  though 
so  pressed  to  do  so.  My  refusing  to  go  there,  has  ever  been 
a  life-time  regret.  Often,  in  these  days,  after  the  lapse  of 
twenty  years,  I  still  imagine  I  hear  the  Major  imploring  me 
to  stay,  and  telling  me,  he  thought  by  my  remaining  he 
would  soon  be  converted.  Do  you  know  what  I  am  thinking 
of  now  ?  It  is  this  :  if  that  man  is  not  among  the  saved — 
but,  O,  my  soul !  I  hope  he  is — I  should  dread  to  meet  him 
on  that  great  day.  If  I  did  wrong  in  not  going  to  Salem, 
O,  my  Saviour!  forgive  me.  The  meeting  I  went  to  from 
Lancaster  was  a  great  failure,  and  I  was  very  much  disap- 
pointed. 

Many  years  ago,  I  sometimes  preached  at  a  certain  court- 
house in  our  State,  where  our  church  had  done  very  little, 
and  where  the  prospect  promised  no  better.  As  I  have  al- 
ready said,  I  think  there  are  places  at  which  one  branch  of 
the  church  does  more  good  than  another;  while  at  other 
places  the  same  church  can  accomplish  nothing.  I  think  it 
is  all  right ;  and  I  have  often  thought  that  if  there  were 
no  other  church  in  these  States  but  the  Methodist  Church, 
many  persons  would  risk  the  loss  of  their  souls  rather  than 
unite  with  it ;  and  so  with  any  other  denomination.  After 
preaching  at  that  court-house  for  some  time,  I  was  told 
by  a  lady,  whose  sister  had  married  a  gentleman  of  high 
standing,  that  her  sister  had  made  up  her  mind  to  join  our 
church,  and  w^anted  to  see  me  before  going  to  the  church  at 
my  next  appointment,  as  she  intended  to  join  at  that  time^ 
and  she  thought  her  husband  would  go  with  her.  She  said, 
I  must  let  nothing  prevent  me  from  coming  at  that  time. 
Now,  this  was  sufficient  encouragement  for  the  Strange 
Preacher  to  begin  the  building  of  an  air  castle;  so  my 
imagination  broke  loose  from  all  restraint,  and  my  plan 
was  at  once  arranged.  I  first  thought  of  sending  word  to 
some  of  the  preachers  whom  I  thought  would  suit  the  place, 


BUILDING   AIR   CASTLES.  199 

to  come  prepared  to  stay  at  least  a  fortnight,  and  to  fix  up 
several  of  their  best  sermons — thinking,  by  the  help  of  the 
Lord,  to  storm  the  village.  I  said  to  myself,  "  If  that  lady 
joins,  and  she  will  be  sure  to  do  so,  then  her  husband  will  do 
as  she  does ;  and  then  will  follow  the  Major,  and  the  Captain  > 
and  many  others ;  and  we  Avill  have  a  glorious  old-time 
meeting.  And  with  the  Strength  of  Israel  on  our  side,  we 
will  build  up  the  Methodist  Church."  My  thoughts  con- 
tinued to  rise  still  higher ;  but  as  I  had  not  lost  all  control 
of  m^^self,  upon  second  thought,  I  resolved  that  I  would 
not  send  word  to  the  preachers,  as  they  might  have  their 
appointments  out.  I  knew  they  did  not  live  very  far,  and  I 
could  send  word  to  them  afterwards.  And  thus  I  settled 
down  on  my  programme,  and  went  to  work  to  fix  up  dif- 
ferent sermons,  which  I  thought  would  best  suit  the  place. 
For  example,  what  would  do  very  well  for  Shiloh  or  Taber- 
nacle, would  not  begin  to  suit  that  place.  So  I  thought  and 
thought,  and  at  last  had  everything  arranged  for  the  meet- 
ing, and  awaited  anxiously  for  the  time  to  come,  I  grasped 
my  lance,  to  se-e  if  I  could  hold  it  as  firmly  in  the  rest  as 
ever ;  and  I  examined  my  Damascus  blade,  to  see  if  there 
was  any  rust  on  its  keen  edge;  and  I  noticed  my  gallant 
steed,  to  see  if  all  was  right — the  war  harness,  and  the  trap- 
pings as  they  should  be.  And  my  war-horse  began  to  champ 
his  bit,  and  tramp  the  ground — he  was  eager  for  the  charge. 
The  time  came,  and  I  bade  farewell  to  my  family— for  I 
expected  to  be  absent  a  long  time,  for  I  intended  to  continue 
the  meeting  as  long  as  the  prospect  was  good,  as  I  knew  it 
was  best  to  strike  while  the  iron  was  hot.  My  hopes  were 
high,  and  my  flag  unfurled,  "  My  banner  was  on  the  outer 
wall,  for  the  cry  was  still,  they  come."  I  was  counting  on 
a  tremendous  time  ;  and  thought  that,  through  grace,  the 
Methodist  Church  would  at  last  take  firm  hold,  where  it  had 
failed  so  long;  and  then  would  follow  a  lengthy  notice  in  the 
"  Advocate,"  that  several  preachers  had  at  last  stormed  the 
stronghold  of  sin,  at  such  a  place,  I  had  all  my  plans  ar- 
ranged, and  my  hopes  had  not  been  so  high  for  years.  I 
reviewed  my  fine  sermons  over  again  and  again;  when,  lo!  I 
met  some  one  who  told  me,  that  the  lady  and  gentleman 


200  STRAY  LEAVES. 

alluded  to,  had  a  few  days  ago,  joined  another  branch  of  the 
church.  O,  my  soul!  what  a  ftill  wdh  that!  The  splendid 
castles  which  had  been  built,  vanished,  leaving  but  a  wreck 
behind ;  and  I  was  overwhelmed  with  disappointed  hopes. 
After  a  while,  I  drew  a  long  breath,  and  said  to  myself,  "  I 
am  so  glad  I  did  not  send  word  to  the  preachers  to  meet  me 
there."  I  could  not  be  persuaded  to  preach  from  one  of  my 
favorite  texts ;  I  would  draw  no  pictures ;  but  give  them  a 
ten  cents'  sermon;  and  leave  no  appointment.  Do  you  re- 
member those  lines  in  "  Henry  YIII.,"  where  Wolsey  is  la- 
menting his  fall  ? 

'*  This  is  the  state  of  man :  to-day  he  puts  forth 
The  tender  leaves  of  hope ;  to-morrow  blossoms, 
And  bears  his  blushing  honors  thick  upon  him. 
The  third  day,  comes  a  frost,  a  killing  frost — 
And  when  he  thinks,  good  easy  man,  full  surely 
His  greatness  is  a-ripening — nips  his  root, 
And  then  he  falls,  as  I  do. "  / 

It  was  many 'years  before  I  preached  at  that  place  again. 
Among  several  sermons  which  I  had  fixed  up,  there  was 
one  with  which  I  had  taken  great  pains,  and  the  Strange 
Preacher  was  quite  pleased  with  it,  and  read  it  over  and 
over.  He  thought  it  was  much  better  than  Moses  to  Hobab, 
or  the  famous  passage  of  the  Jordan  by  Joshua  and  the 
children  of  Israel.  But  his  trouble  was  to  select  a  suitable 
place  and  time  for  a  protracted  meeting;  for  he  thought, 
with  the  help  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  whenever  that  sermon  was 
preached,  a  great  revival  would  break  out ;  and  he  would 
have  the  pleasure  of  sending  for  Brothers  L.  and  H. ;  and 
there  would  be  no  telling  when  it  would  close. 

He  went  to  more  than  one  meeting,  where  he  expected  to 
try  his  favorite,  but  everything  did  not  suit — something  was 
wanting,  and  so  he  would  not  hold  forth  from  the  expected 
text.  But  it  made  no  ditference  ;  he  would  bide  his  time — it 
would  come  at  last.  And  so  the  parson  waited  for  years  for 
the  set  time  to  come.  He  continued  to  read  it  over  again 
and  again ;  and  concluded  he  knew  it  much  better  than  many 
a  lesson  he  had  said  to  Mr.  Stafford,  at  Piatt  Springs,  in  his 
youthful  days.    He  was  sure  that  whenever  that  sermon  was 


THE   WELL-PREPARED   SERMOX.  201 

preached,  a  great  impression  would  be  made,  by  God's  help ; 
that  at  all  meetings  he  should  attend,  the  presiding  elder 
and  others  would  say,  "  Come,  Brother  'B.,  give  us  what  you 
preached  from  at  such  a  place ;  the  friends  say  it  was  by  far 
your  best  effort."  And  he  said  to  himself,  "  I  expect  when 
Brothers  M.,  and  S,,  and  E.,  hear  that  discourse,  they  will 
say,  '  The  parson  fired  off  one  of  his  big  guns  to-day  ; '  and  as 
for  my  much-loved  friends,  K,,  and  B.,  and  II.,  they  will  be 
carried  away  with  it,  and  will  do  some  loud  shouting  before 
it  is  finished." 

But  the  suitable  place  and  time,  and  all  other  surround- 
ings, had  not  yet  come ;  and  the  Strange  Preacher  began  to 
be  afraid  he  would  have  to  cross  the  flood,  and  go  to  the 
green  fields  of  Eden,  before  he  delivered  his  favorite  sermon 
— and  what  a  loss  would  it  be  to  his  many  friends.  So  at 
last,  he  resolved  to  do  as  Mahomet  did  when  he  found  that 
the  mountain  would  not  come  to  him — he  went  to  it.  He 
said  to^himself,  "  I  have  a  two  days'  meeting  at  Green  Pond, 
and  will  preach  it  there,  whether  things  suit  or  not.  I  will 
astonish  the  natives  there,  once  in  their  lives,  if  never  again. 
And  then  when  I  take  my  trip  up  the  country,  I  will  try  it 
at  all  the  camp-meetings  I  attend ; "  and  so  it  was  aiTanged. 
I  started  for  Green  Pond,  fully  convinced  that,  through 
grace,  a  blessed  revival  would  break  out.  It  would  take  al- 
most an  hour  to  deliver  my  sermon  ;  my  hopes  were  high? 
and  I  felt  that  all  would  be  right.  I  anticipated  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  the  old  class-leader  and  many  others  weeping,  and 
a  tremendous  move  through  the  entire  crowd.  I  expected 
my  voice  would  be  drowned  by  the  loud  shouting  of  the 
Lord's  people,  and  I  would  have  to  stop  before  I  got  quite 
through.  I  was  sure  that  Brother  H, — who  generally  put 
me  ahead — would  be  present,  and  would  say  to  himself,  "The 
best  thing  to  be  done,  is  for  me  not  to  add  another  word,  lest 
I  spoil  the  great  impression  ;  but  I  will  call  up  mourners  at 
once ;  for  this  meeting  will  of  course  be  protracted,  and  I 
will  have  enough  to  do." 

The  parson  got  there  on  Saturday,  full  of  expectation. 
There  were  not  many  out ;  and  Brother  H.  said,  '*  Brother 
B.,  I  wish  you  would  preach  to-day,  as  you  are  much  nevjer 
13 


202  STRAY   LEAVES. 

hero  thiin  1  am,  and  tlicrc  arc  ho  few  out."  Something  im- 
pressed the  parson  with  this  thought — "You  had  better"  try 
the  new  text  to-day,  as  the  turn-out  is  so  small ;  and  should 
you  make  a  failure,  you  would  not  mind  it  so  much  as  j'ou 
would  to-morrow,  when  a  crowded  house  will  be  out."  But 
he  thought  there  was  no  danger  of  a  failure  ;  and  so  he  would 
not  fire  olf  his  right-hand  barrel,  which  was  loaded  with 
pelters,  but  tried  something  else. 

A  tremendous  crowd  was  out  the  next  day ;  several  had 
to  remain  outside.  The  services  commenced,  and  the'Strange 
Preacher  gave  out  his  text.  He  hoped,  through  grace,  to 
sweep  every  thing  before  him.  For  a  while,  he  went  on  as 
well  as  heart  could  wish — all  was  bright — the  congregation 
silent  and  attentive;  but,  O,  my  soul!  he  suddenly  forgot 
w^hat  was  to  come  next.  He  w^as  dreadfully  bothered,  for  h^ 
had  no  recollection  of  what  had  been  prepared,  and  could 
think  of  nothing  to  say  in  its  place.  The  perspiration 
streamed  down  his  face,  and  he  knew  not  w^iat  to  do ;  but 
he  talked  on  at  random  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  sat 
down.  He  wished  he  was  an^^where  else  but  at  Green  Pond ; 
his  head  was  bowed  down,  for  he  was  in  the  depth  of  the 
valley.  After  a  while,  he  said  to  himself,  "  Since  I  was  de- 
termined to  preach  that  sermon,  I  wish  I  had  tried  it  yes- 
terday, when  there  were  so  few  out."  If  ever  the  parson 
counted  chickens  before  they  were  hatched,  that  was  a  time. 

;More  than  tw^enty  years  ago,  I  had  a  two  days'  meeting  at 
Ebenezer,  on  the  Walterboro  circuit.  I  thought,  that  if  I 
met  with  encouragement,  I  would  protract  a  day  or  two ; 
^nd  was  in  hope  that  it  would  be  kept  up  even  longer.  So 
I  went  prepared  for  a  big  meeting.  My  friend.  Brother 
Green  was  then  on  the  circuit,  and  I  left  word  for  him  to 
hurry  down  as  soon  as  he  could.  I  had  some  good  friends 
there,  and  hoped  to  enjoy  myself  much  with  them.  There 
were  a  few  hardened  sinners  in  the  neighborhood,  whose 
hearts  I  thought  might  be  reached,  which  would  create  such 
an  impression  that  it  would  be  wrong  to  discontinue  the 
meeting.  These  arrangements  were  made — such  a  subject 
was  selected  for  Saturday,  such  a  one  for  Sunday,  and  so  on 
to  the  end.     Xow  for  the  meeting,  where  Brother  Alfred 


BEATING   A   RETREAT.  203 

Eaysor  was  the  class-leader — a  pious,  holy  man,  one  of  the 
salt  of  the  earth,  I  knew  Brother  Box  Eobinson  would  be 
there,  and  would  sing  his  old  song,  beginning — 

''  The  richest  man  I  ever  saw, 
Was  one  that  begged  the  most. 
And  a-begging  I  will  go." 

There  was  a  small  turn-out  on  Saturday,  and  nothing  very 
promising  in  the  services ;  but  on  vSunday  there  was  a  large 
congregation — almost  a  camp-meeting  in  miniature.  I  won- 
dered where  they  all  came  from ;  for  there  were  even  more 
than  I  expected.  But,  alas!  for  the  preacher!  the  Holy 
Spirit  was  not  present,  as  he  had  hoped.  I  became  much 
discouraged,  and  my  feelings  were  at  the  opposite  extreme 
of  buoyant  hope.  I  was  willing  to  quit,  but  had  promised  to 
wait  till  Brother  G.  came ;  and  I  began  to  wish  I  had  not 
left  word  for  him  to  hasten  down  with  his  flag  unfurled.  I 
gave  out  a  meeting  for  the  next  day ;  but  had  lost  all  hope 
of  doing  anything.  On  Monday  morning  there  was  a  little 
handful,  and  a  very  cold  time.  I  could  stand  it  no  longer ; 
but  sounded  a  retreat,  and  called  off  my  forces.  I  started 
for  home,  hoping  Brother  G.  had  not  got  my  message ;  for 
as  much  as  I  respected  him,  I  did  not  wish  to  meet  him  that 
day.  But  who  was  that  I  saw  coming  down  the  road  ?  It 
was  Brother  G.,  with  his  "banner  on  the  outer  wall."  I 
stopped,  for  I  knew  what  to  expect ;  he  pulled  off  his  hat,  and 
bowed  very  low,  expressing  much  surprise  at  meeting  me,  as 
he  had  been  told  I  did  not  expect  to  return  for  a  fortnight, 
and  wished  him  to  hasten  to  my  help.  He  said,  he  expected 
to  find  me  sweeping  everything  before  me,  and  to  hear  that 
Captain  S.  and  several  others  had  joined  the  church,  O,  my 
soul !  what  a  different  tale  I  had  to  tell ;  and  I  remember 
his  hearty  laugh  to  this  day. 

There  was  a  neighborhood  on  the  Savannah  river,  where 
our  church  had  been  doing  nothing  for  several  years,  and 
where  I  was  once  requested  to  hold  a  two  days'  meeting, 
with  the  preacher  on  the  circuit.  He  told  me,  I  had  not 
been  tnere  for  a  long  time,  and  the  friends  were  anxious  for 
me  to  go  once  more ;  and  that  as  it  would  be  a  suitable  time 


204  STRAY    LEAVES. 

we  would  protract  the  meeting — so  I.  must  go  prepared  to 
remain  two  weeks.  I  promised  him  to  do  so,  and  made 
every  arrangement ;  and  left  home  expecting  to  be  absent  a 
fortnight.  I  thought  of  it  constantly,  and  concluded  what 
sermons  would  suit  the  occasion.  I  had  some  beautiful  pieces 
of  poetry,  which  I  thought  to  bring  in  during  the  meeting. 
These  I  repeated  to  myself  as  I  went  along ;  I  did  not  miss 
a  word — all  was  right.  After  much  reflection,  I  had  resolved 
to  use  this  text  on  Saturday — '•  Our  feet  shall  stand  within 
thy  gates,  O,  Jerusalem!  "  for  this  would  prepare  the  church, 
through  grace,  and  they  would  be  ready  to  come  to  the  help 
of  the  Lord  against  the  mighty.  On  Sunday,  the  house 
would  not  accommodate  the  large  crowd;  and  I  would 
preach  from  John  xi.  48 ;  and  the.  meeting  would  be  protrac- 
ted ;  and  on  Monday  I  would  take  David's  charge  to  Solomon. 
When  near  the  church,  I  stopped  for  private  i)rayer.  The 
Lord  blessed  his  servant,  and  I  was  in  fine  spirits ;  and  felt 
almost  like  clapping  my  hands,  and  saying,  "  Farewell 
world ! "  There  was  only  one  more  house  to  pass,  where 
I  would  get  some  fresh  water,  and  then  be  ready  for  the 
meeting.  I  drove  up  to  the  gate,  not  expecting  to  see  any- 
body but  the  servants,  as  I  expected  the  family  to  be  at 
church ;  but  I  was  quite  surprised  to  see  the  lady  of  the 
house  come  out.  I  said  to  myself,  "  She  is  looking  for  so 
much  company,  she  could  not  go  out  to-day."  The  water 
was  handed  to  me ;  before  I  drank  it,  she  told  me  that  she 
did  not  expect  to  see'me.  "What!"  said  I,  "is  there  not  a 
two  days'  meeting  at  the  church?"  She  answered,  that 
they  were  expecting  me  four  weeks  before — that  there  was 
a  great  disappointment  when  I  did  not  come — the  house 
could  not  hold  the  congregation  on  Sunday ;  and  Brother  C. 
had  said  he  was  afraid  I  was  sick,  for  I  was  noted  for  filling 
my  appointments.  I  never  was  so  cast  down,  so  disap- 
pointed, in  my  life — after  riding  so  far,  and  not  to  be  ex- 
pected. I  stood  for  a  while  without  drinking  the  water, 
though  I  was  very  thirsty.  O,  my  soul !  what  a  fall  to  all 
my  high  hoj^es  was  that !  I  counted  on  my  chickens  there ; 
but  none  of  them  were  hatched. 


LEAF  THE  THIETY-FIEST. 

A     MEMENTO     TO     MY     DEPARTED     FRIENDS,     THE     THREE     GREAT 
HEROES    OF    THE    OLD    BARNWELL    CIRCUIT,   AND    BINNAKERS 

CAMP-GROUND BROTHERS    HENRY  HOLMAN,  DAVID   FEEDER, 

AND    GEORGE    RILEY. 

Heiirv  Holman,  all  hail!  departed  friend.  I  never  can 
forget  thee,  though  thou  hast  long  been  removed  from  my 
sight.  Brother  H.  joined  the  church  long  before  I  did  ;  and 
was  a  whole-souled,  devoted  Christian — a  man  of  much  faith, 
and  hope,  and  love — a  Methodist  of  the  old  school,  one  who 
possessed  a  heart-felt  religion.  He  often  became  very  happy, 
when  he  would  praise  God  aloud,  regardless  of  the  opinions 
of  others  ;  and  his  house  was  one  of  the  most  pleasant  homes 
for  the  preachers  of  the  gospel  that  I  ever  visited  in  all  my 
roving  life.  And  his  children  were  worthy  of  such  a  father; 
of  gentle,  kind,  winning  manners — loving  the  church  and  the 
blessed  Saviour.  His  Avife  was  a  woman-^mong  a  thousand. 
I  have  spent  many  happy  hours  with  Brother  Holman's 
family.  He  always  met  me  with  a  smile,  and  a  shake  of  the 
hand,  which  went  to  my  heart.  He  filled  a  high  place  in  my 
affections,  and  I  loved  him  much.  He  was  one  of  the  chief 
supporters  of  the  Barnwell  circuit,  during  the  whole  of  his 
Christian  life ;  was  a  class-leader  of  the  primitive  order  of 
Methodism ;  and  was  famous  for  his  constant  observance  of 
all  the  means  of  grace — attending  church  both  on  the  Sab- 
bath and  week-day.  He  was  the  leader  of  that  same  church, 
by  the  door  of  which  I  rode  on  the  holy  Sabbath,  with  my 
gun  across  my  saddle ;  and  he  told  me  afterwards,  that  at 
the  time  he  had  no  idea  of  ever  hearing  me  preach  in  that 
house. 

I  have  had  the  great  pleasure  of  numbering  Brother  H. 
amon^  my  friends,  from  the  time  I  first  knew  him  well,  till 
the  day  of  his  death ;  and  during  the  whole  time,  I  think  I 
never' saw  him,  and  we  met  often,  but  that  he  was  happy 
and  contented.     He  was  fond  of  attending  protracted  and 


206  STRAY    LEAVES. 

camp-meetings;  and  Binnakers  camp-ground  was  a  much- 
loved  ])lace  to  him — the  earth,  the  trees,  were  all  very  dear 
to  him  ;  and  I  suspect  he  thought  more  of  the  Edisto  than 
of  all  the  other  rivers  of  his  native  land,  because  it  flowed  so 
near  his  dear  old  camp-ground.  I  know  that  many  of  our 
preachers  have  not  yet  forgotten  the  hero  of  Binnakers — 
who  generally  occupied  the  same  seat,  and  always  appeared 
to  like  the  preaching  so  much,  no  matter  who  was  in  the 
pulpit.  He,  and  all  his  family,  sung  well ;  and  it  was  a  great 
pleasure  for  me  to  listen  to  them.  I  have  attended  many 
glorious  meetings  with  Brother  H. ;  for  wherever  he  went 
he  was  a  host  within  himself.  I  have  known  several  per- 
sons, whose  presence  was  a  great  advantage  to  me  while 
preaching,  and  he  was  one  of  the  men ;  for  I  think,  with  the 
help  of  the  Lord,  I  never  made  a  total  failure,  when  the  hero 
of  Binnakers  was  in  the  congregation,  to  strengthen  me  with 
his  inspiring  presence.  Since  his  death,  I  have  missed  him 
much ;  but  at  no  time  so  much  as  when  trying  to  preach. 

I  am  thinking  now  of  a  time  of  wonderful  power  at  Binna- 
kers. The  vast  crowd  seemed  to  be  under  the  influence  of  the 
Spirit.  The  meeting  was  good  from  the  first,  for  Dr.  Capers 
was  there ;  and  it  was  a  season  of  rejoicing  for  the  people  of 
the  Lord.  But  the  time  of  which  I  speak  was  the  3  o'clock 
service  of  the  holy  Sabbath,  and  my  respected  friend,  Bro- 
ther E.  Felder,  was  to  preach.  He  was  at  a  loss  what  sub- 
ject to  take,  and  advised  with  me  about  it.  Preachers  are 
sometimes  so  situated,  and  it  is  a  rather  unpleasant  position 
to  be  in.     Let  me  paint  the  scene  for  you. 

The  horn  had  blown,  and  a  large  congregation  was  wait- 
ing. I  w^alked  to  the  stand  with  Brother  F.,  whose  mind 
was  not  yet  made  up.  The  prayer  was  over,  and  he  gave 
out,  "  Come,  let  us  join  our  friends  above ; "  which  was  sung 
to  a  new  tune.  The  Holy  Spirit  descended  upon  the  congre- 
gation, bearing  every  thing  before  it.  Perhaps  such  a  sight 
was  never  seen  before,  at  that  time-honored  place.  The  in- 
terest manifested  w^as  deep  and  wide,  for  the  Eternal  Jehovah 
himself  was  preaching ;  and,  of  course,  Brother  F.  said  no- 
thing but  "Glory! "  and  I  think  Brother  H.  was  as  happy  as 
any  one  else  present.     Several  of  the  preachers  were  pros- 


AT  THE  GATES  OF  DEATH.  207 

trated  in  the  altar.  There  was  no  sermon  preached  by  Bro- 
ther Felder  that  evening;  for  when  he  finished  the  hymn, 
some  one  requested  it  to  be  sung  again,  which  was  done.  A 
crowd  of  mourners  came  up,  and  there  were  man}^  conver- 
sions. It  was  a  time  never  to  be  forgotten  by  those  who 
witnessed  it. 

More  than  twenty  j^ears  ago,  I  had  returned  from  a  camp- 
meeting  in  North  Carolina,  and  was  soon  after  taken  very 
sick.  I  was  at  the  gates  of  death ;  several  physicians  were 
with  me,  and  my  life  was  despaired  of.  There  were  two 
camp-meetings  going  on  at  the  same  time — one  at  Carmel, 
and  the  other  at  Binnakers ;  and  it  was  known  at  both 
places  how  ill  I  was,  and  earnest  prayer  was  offered  in  my 
behalf — and  I  suspect  that  had  more  to  do  with  my  recovery 
than  9II  the  doctors  put  together.  One  night,  there  was 
little  hope  of  my  living  till  morning.  At  Binnakers,  that 
blessed  man  of  God,  Brother  Pierce,  addressed  the  church  at 
some  length,  requesting  them  to  exercise  faith  while  praying 
for  me,  and  he  thought  I  would  be  spared  to  them.  Brother 
Kirkland  then  invited  those  who  wished  to  pray  for  me  to 
come  around  the  altar;  and  many  who  were  not  members  of 
the  church  came  forward.  The  next  morning,  Brother  H. 
was  sent  to  see  how  I  was,  and  found  me  a  little  better.  He 
was  allowed  to  see  me  for  a  few  moments  ;  but  was  told,  that 
unless  he  controlled  himself,  they  would  send  him  out.  O, 
how  well  I  remember  that  morning !  Many  days  after,  when 
I  was  much  better,  he  came  to  see  me  :  the  doctors  were  not 
there,  and  we  had  an  old-time  shout  together. 

Farewell!  dear  brother  of  my  soul;  1  prized  thy  love 
much  more  than  the  gold  of  this  world.  Thy  warfare  is 
over,  thy  pilgrimage  is  ended,  and  thou  art  saved  in  heaven ; 
and  I  hope,  when  the  time  comes  for  me  to  cross  the  flood, 
that  Brother  Holman's  sainted  spirit,  with  many  other  loved 
ones,  will  be  there,  and  my  blessed  Saviour,  with  his  rod  and 
staff,  will  be  with  me,  to  comfort  and  support  me  as  I  cross 
over  the  valley. 

Father  David  Felder  was  one  of  the  best  of  Christian  men 
that  I  ever  had  the  pleasure  of  numbering  among  my  friends. 
He  was  worth  his  weight  in  gold,  more  than  twice  told.    He 


4 

208  STRAY   LEAVES. 

had  ilniiik  of  the  water  which  the  Saviour  offered  to  the 
woman  of  Samaria,  and  thirsted  no  more  for  the  vanities 
and  pleasures  of  this  world.  lie  was  a  pi-imitive  Methodist 
in  life,  dress,  and  every  thing.  Whoever  travelled  the  Barn- 
well circuit  in  the  olden  days,  will  always  remember  the  old 
class-leader  and  steward,  who  always  enjoyed  the  comforts 
of  religion.  I  do  not  recollect  ever  having  seen  him  cast 
down  or  depressed ;  but  he  appeared  to  be  on  the  mountain- 
top  at  all  times — ready  and  waiting  for  his  summons  to  the 
better  world.  It  seemed  to  me,  that  through  grace,  he  was 
one  of  those  sanctified  men,  who  would  l)e  found  prepared  at 
any  time  for  the  Master's  coming;  and  he  looked  to  me,  as 
if  you  might  read  these  words  in  his  face — "  Come,  my 
blessed  Saviour;  and  come  quickly."  He  was  one  of  the 
chief  pillars  of  the  church  long  before  I  embraced  religion ; 
and  he  had  manj^  tales  to  tell  of  the  old  preachers,  and  of 
the  days  when  the  few  Methodists  who  were  in  the  District 
were  shunned  by  others.  I  respected  and  revered  father 
Felder  much ;  and  I  often  wished  I  was  as  well  prepared  fer 
judgment  as  I  thought  he  was.  I  have  spent  many  never- 
to-be-forgotten  hours  under  his  friendly  roof.  He  was  res- 
pected b}^  all  who  knew  him  well ;  though  I  have  heard  that 
in  his  younger  dnja  he  was  wild  and  wicked — living  without 
Christ  in  the  world ;  and  that  he  was  convicted  in  a  very 
remarkable  manner.  He  was  at  a  log-rolling  w^ith  some 
friends,  where  they  were  enjoying  themselves  by  working 
and  drinking.  The  work  was  over,  and  the  spirits  had  given 
out  before  the  end  of  the  day ;  and  the  party,  at  Brother  F.'s 
suggestion,  concluded  to  amuse  themselves  by  listening  to  a 
sermon  which  he  was  to  preach.  So  they  gathered  around 
where  he  was  standing  on  the  top  of  a  barrel.  He  gave  out 
his  text,  which  was  simply  "Gin;"  and  spoke  at  some  length 
on  the  ruinous  effects  of  strong  drink  upon  the  character, 
health,  and  fortunes  of  men  who  lived  such  a  life ;  and  then 
spoke  of  the  spiritual  ruin  which  often  followed — the  eternal 
loss  of  the  soul  amid  the  flames  of  hell.  Suddenly,  he  looked 
down  to  note  the  effect  of  his  preaching  on  the  drinking 
party,  and  found  them  all  serious,  some  in  tears.  He  leaped 
down  from  his  pulpit,  and  hastened  home,  deeply  convicted, 


FATHER  DAVID  FELDER.  209 

dreading  the  wrath  to  come  and  a  sin-avenging  God.  He 
did  not  rest  until  he  found  the  Saviour  in  the  forgiveness  of 
his  sins  ;  and  then  he  joined  the  church,  and  became  a  vali- 
ant soldier  of  the  cross — the  war-worn  veteran  of  a  thousand 
battles  fought  in  the  service  of  his  Master. 

I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  being  at  some  interesting  meet- 
ings with  the  now  sainted  patriarch  of  the  Barnwell  circuit ; 
and  he  reminded  me  of  some  of  those  great  heroes,  who, 
having  followed  the  fortunes  of  the  son  of  Jesse,  during  all 
his  roving  life,  until  he  was  made  king  of  Israel,  became  the 
strong  supporters  of  his  throne,  some  of  whom  had  single- 
handed  slain  hundreds  of  his  foes.  Such  a  warrior  was  David 
Felder — one  of  those  immortal  men  whose  names  will  live 
for  ever.  I  never  met  him  without  feeling  that  I  was  in  the 
presence  of  one  of  the  princes  of  our  Israel.  My  much-loved 
father  respected  him  highly,  and  often  said  to  me,  "  I  wish 
all  members  of  the  church  were  such  Christians  as  Mr.  David 
Felder."  He  was  a  man  full  of  the  Holy  G-liost,  of  hope,  and 
of  love.  But  the  patriarch  of  Barnwell  circuit  and  Binnakers 
camp-ground  has  long  since  gone  to  his  great  reward.  Fare- 
well !  father  Felder ;  you,  too,  have  fought  the  good  fight, 
you  have  kept  the  faith,  and  you  have  finished  your  course, 
and  have  won  the  crown. 

While  speaking  of  such  men  as  Brothers  Holman  and  Fel- 
der, I  thought  I  would  be  doing  wrong  to  say  nothing  of 
my  much-respected  friend  George  Eiley — the  just,  the  up- 
right, and  the  Christian  hero — the  man  "  without  blemish 
and  reproach."  As  far  as  I  know,  he  led  a  blameless  life  be- 
fore heaven  and  earth.  He  was  devoted  and  thorough-going, 
fully  bound  for  heaven.  And  he  was  a  true  friend  to  the 
preachers  on  the  Barnwell  circuit.  When  I  stood  up  to 
preach,  I  was  glad  to  see  him  in  the  congregation ;  for  then 
I  knew  there  was  one  present  who  would  pray  for  me,  and 
who  was  a  host  v*^ithin  himself.  He  was  a  man  of  few  words, 
but  well  spoken,  and  always  in  the  right  place.  He  was 
serious  and  grave,  but  seldom  cast  down ;  a  man  among 
men,  and  a  hero  among  heroes ;  a  true  knight  of  the  cross, 
whom  heaven  loved,  and  hell  respected.  I  have  often  en- 
joyed myself  much  in  his  company.     It  was  a  pleasure  to 


210  STRAY    LEAVES. 

him  and  his  pious  Avife  for  the  preachers  to  go  to  sec  them  ; 
and  they  were  treated  so  kindly,  that  no  doubt  the  heralds 
of  the  cross  loved  to  go  to  that  home  of  the  preachers — Bro- 
ther I?iley's  house. 

But  the  good  man  has  gone  to  the  rest  which  remains  for 
the  people  of  God.  Farewell !  to  the  three  old  heroes  of 
Barnwell  circuit  and  Binnakers  camp-ground.  Xo  wonder 
that  the  holy  place  has  seen  its  best  days — that  its  glory 
has  departed  ;  for  the  three  strongest  members  have  passed 
away,  and  there  are  none  to  take  their  places.  O,  ye  de- 
parted friends  of  my  soul,  I  bid  you  all  hail !  and  I  hope  you 
think  of  me  sometimes,  while  walking  the  golden  streets  of 
the  Jerusalem  above.  I  can  never  forget  you.  I  have  seen 
much  of  sorrow  and  trouble  since  you  left  met ;  but  my  Sa- 
viour has  often  comforted  and  strengthened  me  while  toiling 
on  through  this  unfriendly  world.  Amazing  grace  has  saved 
me  thus  far,  and  I  hope  will  save  me  to  the  end  of  life's  pil- 
grimage, when  I  hope  to  meet  all  the  departed  loved  ones 
on  the  banks  of  eternal  deliverance,  to  part  no  more ;  and, 
O!  what  a  time  of  rejoicing  it  will  be,  Avhen  the  friends  who 
have  loved  on  earth  shall  meet  in  glory,  to  be  separated  no 
more.  Happy,  thrice  happy,  dead !  you  are  now  for  ever 
freed  from  the  cares  and  troubles  of  life,  which  often  press 
so  heavily  upon  your  friends  left  behind.  You  were  taken 
home  to  rest.  You  were  removed  from  the  evil  to  come. 
You  were  spared  the  sad  sight  of  your  ruined  country,  and 
its  departed  glory.  You  are  now  saved  in  heaven,  and  are 
rejoicing  for  evermore.  AVhen  done  with  the  sorrows  of 
earth,  I  hope  to  praise  the  Lord  with  you  in  endless  day. 

^'  Our  old  companions  in  distress, 
We  haste  again  to  see ; 
^  And  eager  long  for  our  release, 

And  full  felicity. 
E'en  now  by  faith  we  join  our  hands 

With  those  that  went  before  ; 
And  greet  the  blood-besprinkled  bands, 
On  the  eternal  shore." 


LEAF  THE  THIETY-SECOl^D. 

MEETINGS    AT    OLD    ZION  ;    AND    THE    LAST    FRESHET    IN    THE 

EDISTO. 

After  old  Pine  Grove  was  discontinued  as  a  place  of  wor- 
ship, old  Zion  took  its  place,  and  was  one  of  the  chief  places 
on  the  old  Waltsrboro  circuit.  It  is  on  the  road  leading  from 
Baixiberg-  to  Walterboro,  near  one  of  the  oldest  and  most  fa- 
mous mills  in  Barnwell  District ;  but  I  am  sorry  to  say,  I  am 
afraid  both  have  seen  their  best  days.  There  they  stand — 
but,  O,  what  a  falling  off!  Who,  that  remembers  their  former 
glory,  does  not  now  feel  sad  at  their  decline  ? 

Old  Zion  was  famous  for  large  congregations,  and  lively 
meetings ;  and  the  old  mill  for  the  great  business  which  was 
carried  on  there.  But  now  a  very  small  band  meets  at  Zion, 
unless  an  extra  occasion  brings  them  from  a  distance ;  and, 
comparativel}^  speaking,  but  little  business  is  now  done  at 
the  mill.  But  look  at  them  in  another  light.  At  the  mill, 
cotton  was  ginned,  lumber  sawed,  and  corn  and  wheat 
ground,  and  a  great  deal  of  money  made — and  the  physical 
man  was  clothed  and  sustained.  At  old  Zion,  the  gospel 
was,  and  is  still,  preached — and  the  spiritual  man  supported. 
I  see  that  some  persons  have  recently  commenced  to  re^Dair 
the  mill,  which  seems  to  me  like  dressing  up  in  bridal  robes 
an  old  maid  of  three  score  years ;  but  I  hope  they  will  suc- 
ceed in  restoring  it  to  its  former  prosperity.  How  would  it 
do  for  the  church,  sometimes,  to  take  a  lesson  from  the 
world  ?  Suppose  the  friends  of  old  Zion,  try  to  restore,  by 
more  prayer,  faith,  and  fasting,  the  old  church  to  her  former 
glory,  and  high  estate.  1  wish  so  much  they  would  endea- 
vor, by  the  help  of  the  Lord,  to  bring  back  the  days  of  "auld 
lang  syne."  When  1  pass  by  the  time-honored  house,  and 
think  of  the  crowds  which  used  to  assemble  there,  and  the 
change  that  has  taken  place,  I  feel  like  saying,  "How  the 
ways  of  Zion  mourn,  for  none  come  to  her  solemn  feasts." 
But,  O !  what  blessed  seasons  I  have  seen  there ! — days  of 


212  STRAY  i.eavp:s. 

immortal  remembrance!  What  a  tale  that  sacred  house, 
and  those  venerable  trees,  might  tell,  could  they  speak — but 
how  silent  they  are !  O!  ye  ha})py  dead,  who  worshipped 
there,  I  hope  you  sometimes  think  of  the  old  church,  and 
the  few  friends  still  left  behind ;  and  while  praising  the  Lord 
in  the  heavenly  Zion,  I  trust  jtju  have  not  entirely  forgotten 
your  old  Zion  on  the  AValterboro  circuit.  I  am  sad  when  I 
pass  by  there  now,  and  think  of  the  olden  times;  and  that  is 
one  reason  why  I  do  not  have  many  apj^ointments  there  now. 
I  hope  the  friends  will  excuse  me  when  1  say,  that  I  can  but 
weep  while  contrasting  the  Zion  of  '37  with  the  Zion  of  'G7. 
O!  how  sadly  have  the  times  changed  !  Did  you  ever  see  a 
small  band  of  Indians,  perhaps  only  one  family,  still  linger- 
ing, still  roving  over  the  old  hunting  grounds  where  their 
fathers  had  been  counted  by  thousands  ?  So  it  is  with  the 
little  group  of  friends  still  left  at  old  Zion.  The  old  class- 
leader  still  lingers  near  the  dear  old  sanctuary,  and  I  hope 
he  is  still  enjojHng  as  much  of  the  Lord's  presence  as  he  did 
thirty  years  ago.  The  good  brother  reminds  me  of  Cooper's 
''Last  of  the  Mohicans."  The  ancient  chieftain  sits  almost 
alone,  amid  the  graves  of  his  warriors  long  since  gone  to  the 
hunting  grounds  of  the  Great  Spirit — the  last  of  the  Mohi- 
cans yet  worships  the  Great  Spirit  on  the  earth,  and  still 
sings  the  much-loved  songs  of  his  tribe,  near  the  junction  of 
the  Lemon  Swamp  and  the  Saltketcher.  To  see  the  old 
soldier  of  the  cross,  as  I  expect  he  is  sometimes  seen,  sitting 
with  his  head  bowed  down,  in  the  old  church,  waiting  for 
the  little  band,  some  one  might  say,  "  there  is  Marius  weep- 
ing amid  the  ruins  of  Carthage."  I  have  heard  more  than 
one  of  the  friends  of  that  old  hero  of  the  Walterboro  circuit, 
remark,  that  they  did  not  think  he  was  as  happy  in  his  Sa- 
viour's love  now,  as  in  the  days  of"  auld  lang  syne."  Perhaps 
not,  for  I  do  truly  believe  from  my  heart,  that  I  could  not 
have  held  out  as  Brother  Muse  has,  had  I  been  similarly 
situated,  for  the  last  twenty  years — worshipping  at  the  Zion 
church,  when  her  glory  had  departed.  Without  more  grace 
and  help  from  God  than'  I  generally  have  had,  I  know  it 
would  have  been  almost,  if  not  quite,  the  spiritual  death  of 
the  Strange  Preacher.     Some  persons  require  a  change  of 


THE   BITTER   COLD   DAY.  213 

scenery  and  other  things,  to  do  well,  and  I  am  one  of  those. 
When  I  first  joined  the  church,  and  after  1  had  begun  to 
preach,  my  loved  father,  who  saw  in  me  a  disposition  to 
rove,  told  me  he  wished  I  would  confine  myself  all  the  time 
to  two  churches — Zion  and  Clark's  chapel,  preaching  at  the 
two  alternately,  as  long  as  I  continued  to  preach,  j^ow, 
take  twenty  of  my  friends,  who  know  me  well,  and  put  it  to 
vote ;  and  I  suspect  eighteen  of  the  number  would  say,  it 
would  have  been  the  spiritual  death  of  the  AVar  Preacher. 

During  my  long  rides — for  I  usually  go  alone — I  have 
often  turned  aside,  and  gone  into  the  old  church,  and  read  in 
the  blessed  Book  of  God,  and  bowed  before  the  heavenly 
throne,  and  felt  my  heart  strengthened  by  my  Eedeemer. 
What  times  of  rejoicing  I  have  then  had,  when  alone  in  the 
holy  place  !  Many  years  ago,  1  was  thus  alone  in  old  Zion, 
when  some  friends,  who  knew  my  horse,  passed  by ;  they 
stopped,  and  came  in,  and  we  prayed  together,  and  the  Lord 
of  Hosts  was  with  us.  I  hope  the  class-leader  of  Tabernacle 
remembers  that  morning,  I  have,  on  going  there,  often 
found  the  door  locked,  but  I  had  been  told  where  to  find  the 
key  always. 

While  writing  these  lines,  I  have  been  wondering  if  the 
holy  angels  still  hover  over  the  much-loved  place,  as  they 
did  in  the  olden  days :  but  I  am  afraid  not ;  and  O,  my  soul ! 
what  a  pity !  We  read  in  the  Bible  about  the  angels  of  the 
churches ;  I  hope  if  Zion  has  a  guardian  angel,  he  will  never 
desert  the  old  church.  And  I  trust  he  will  soon  begin  to 
come  twice,  where  has  been  coming  once — at  least,  as  long- 
as  the  "last  of  the  Mohicans"  lives,  and  continues  to  sing 
the  much-loved  songs  of  his  tribe. 

Near  thirty  years  ago,  I  was  once  going  there  to  an  ap- 
pointment. It  was  an  awful  day  for  travelling — the  icy  king 
had  thrown  his  mantle  over  the  ground,  and  icicles  were 
hanging  all  around  the  houses.  The  young  trees  were  say- 
ing their  prayers  with  bowed  heads ;  but  the  old  pines  and 
oaks,  like  hard-hearted  sinners,  stood  erect.  As  Brother 
Durant  would  say,  the  storm  king  was  rousing  himself  from 
his  slumber ;  and  it  was  a  day  as  dreadful  as  that  night,  on 
which,  Thomson  says,  no  man  ought  to  turn  his  enemy's  dog 


214  STRAY    LEAA^ES. 

from  his  door.  My  dear  -wife  entreated  me  not  to  go — that 
it  was  wrong  to  do  so,  as  I  might  thereby  catch  my  death  ; 
also  alleging  that  no  one  would  be  there.  I  told  her,  I  knew 
three  friends  would  be  there  ;  and  I  did  not  wish  to  disap- 
point them.  So  I  started,  but  had  to  dismount  occasionally, 
and  walk  a  little,  to  keep  from  freezing.  I  had  some  ten 
miles  to  go.  A  young  friend  of  mine,  one  of  the  sisters  of 
Zion,  although  knowing  I  was  noted  for  filling  my  appoint- 
ments, thought  I  would  fail  that  day,  and  then  she  would 
mark  it  down  with  red  ink,  and  show  it  to  me  on  my  next 
visit  to  her  home ;  but  her  husband  told  her,  he  expected 
me  to  come.  She  said,  "  no,"  she  was  sure  Brother  B.  would 
be  missing  that  day.  So  she  sat  down  near  a  window,  in  a 
warm  room  (as  she  told  me  afterwards),  to  look  out  for  me, 
and  in  case  I  did  not  pass,  to  mark  me  down  as  missing.  All 
but  five  minutes  of  the  allotted  time  had  passed,  and  she 
was  ready  with  pen  in  hand;  when  her  husband  said,  "there 
he  goes  now."  I  was  almost  frozen  in  my  stirrups,  while  the 
young  trees  were  saying  their  prayers,  with,  bowed  heads, 
and  the  old  pines,  like  hardened  sinners,  stood  erect. 

AVhen  I  got  to  the  church,  I  found  no  one  there,  and  I 
walked  about  for  some  time  to  restore  my  blood  to  proper 
circulation  ;  and  soon  the  three  expected  friends  came.  We 
had  faith  in  each  other,  and  sung  and  prayed  together.  I 
remember  that  holy  Sabbath  well,  and  I  hope  Brother  Muse 
has  not  forgotten  the  time.  Old  Zion,  thou  dear  old  house 
of  the  Lord !  I  love  thee  still !  I  will  love  thee  always  !  But 
I  go  there  seldom  now ;  for  it  makes  me  so  sad.  when  I  con- 
trast the  present  with  the  olden  time — when  Brother  Eason 
Smith  and  his  pious  wife,  with  several  others,  would  greet 
me  so  kindly ;  and  when  sister  Copeland,  the  sweet  singer 
of  the  church,  would  sing  my  much-loved  songs  for  me ;  and 
Brother  Muse  would  pray  as  if  he  had  a  strong  hold  on  the 
horns  of  "the  altar. 

I  have  attended  so  many  glorious  meetings  there,  that  I 
hardly  know  which  to  speak  of;  but  must  speak  of  some  of 
the  best  of  them.  When  Brother  Howell — one  of  our  local 
preachers,  who  lived  in  a  fine  house  near  the  old  mill,  and 
who  kept  one  of  the  best  tables  on  the  circuit,  and  always 


THE   DISGUISED   GENTLEMAN.  215 

treated  his  friends  kindly — was  with  us,  laboring  with  much 
zeal  and  earnestness,  we  had  a  most  glorious  meeting.  The 
house  was  often  filled  to  overflowing.  Brother  Linda,  from 
Little  Swamp,  was  with  us,  too,  with  his  flag  waving  fear- 
lessly. He  was  fond  of  singing  with  his  Zion  friends  in  the 
olden  times.  .  The  meeting  lasted  almost  a  fortnight,  and 
the  blessed  Spirit  was  with  us.  Brother  H.  kept  an  open 
house  for  saint  and  sinner,  and  made  his  friends  feel  quite  at 
home.  The  altar  was  often  crowded  with  mourners ;  and 
Brothers  Muse,  and  Steadly,  and  Smith,  and  Eentz,  and 
many  others,  seemed  to  me,  if  it  was  the  Lord's  will,  to  be 
ready  to  bid  adieu  to  this  unfriendly  world,  and  go  to  the 
green  fields  of  Eden.  O,  my  soul !  what  immortal  times  we 
had  at  that  holy  place  of  prayer!  and  what  shouts  of  joy 
went  up  from  the  holy  sanctuary,  as  the  mourning  souls 
were  happily  converted,  and  the  angels  carried  the  glad 
tidings  to  heaven,  that  the  broken-hearted  had  been  healed, 
and  the  sinners  pardoned !  The  few  friends  who  are  still 
alive,  will  remember  the  time.  I  know  Brother  H.  preached 
and  prayed  as  if  he  was  fully  sprung,  and  swung  clear  in 
those  happy  days  of  "  auld  lang  syne."  Every  now  and 
then,  the  Strange  Preacher  would  clap  his  hands,  and  cry 
out  "  Farewell  world  !  " 

I  recollect  one  night  well.  It  was  rather  cold  for  the  sea- 
son, and  a  fire  was  burning  outside.  There  was  a  large 
turn-out,  and  we  had  a  season  of  rejoicing.  There  was  in 
the  neighborhood  a  gentleman  of  talent  and  position,  who 
seldom  attended  church.  For  many  years,  his  face  had  not 
been  seen  at  that  place  of  prayer  and  praise.  But  having 
heard  so  much  about  the  great  meeting  at  the  mill,  I  sup- 
pose, he  made  uj)  his  mind  to  attend  in  a  disguise,  so  that  he 
would  not  be  recognized,  except  by  those  to  whom  he  told 
his  secret.  He  remained  outside  at  the  fire,  so  that  he  could 
hear  the  preaching  without  going  into  the  house.  I  have 
forgotten  who  preached ;  but  if  it  was  Brother  H.,  the  dis- 
guised gentleman  might  have  stood  farther  ofl*,  and  heard 
every  word.  There  was  a  tremendous  move  in  the  congre- 
gation, and  many  mourners  came  up,  and  the  walls  rang 
w4th  the  rejoicings  of  the  Lord's  people.     The  persons  out- 


216  STRAY    LEAVES. 

Bide  became  somewhat  interested,  and  came  nearer,  that 
they  might  see  better  what  was  going  on  inside.  One  of 
that  f^entleman's  party  stood  in  the  door,  so  as  to  be  nearer 
still,  and  the  good  Spirit  took  hold  of  him,  and  he  was  most 
deeply  convicted.  The  pains  of  hell  were  upon  him,  and  he 
rushed  up  to  the  altar,  where  he  fell  prostrate,  and  cried 
aloud  in  the  agony  of  his  soul.  The  disguised  gentleman 
became  much  excited,  and  wanted  to  go  in  to  see  what  was 
being  done  to  his  friend  to  cause  him  to  lament  so.  I  was 
told  he  was  kept  back  by  force.  O,  how  I  wish  he  might 
have  been  allowed  to  come  in !  for  then  he  might  have  been 
overthrown  by  the  power  of  the  Highest,  and  the  prince  of 
hell  might  have  lost  one  of  his  standard  bearers  that  memo- 
rable night.  Many  united  with  the  church — among  them, 
I  think,  two  of  Brother  Howell's  children.  Several  were 
happily  converted.  From  beginning  to  end,  the  Lord  was 
graciously  manifested  in  our  midst ;  and  the  camp  of  Israel 
moved  on  from  victory  to  victory  ;  w^hile  the  flag  of  Calvary 
waved  over  the  ransomed  of  the  Lord. 

I  remember  another  meeting  which  took  place  there  in 
the  olden  times,  when  two  of  my  respected  friends  from 
Sumter  were  with  us — Brothers  Felder  and  Eichardson. 
Having  been  with  them  so  often,  I  persuaded  them  to  give 
us  a  two  days'  meeting.  Both  were  good  preachc,rs ;  yet 
there  was  the  greatest  difference  in  the  manner  and  style. 
Brother  F.  was  a  true  son  of  thunder — strong,  forcible,  and 
at  times  powerful — a  famous  singer,  and  sometimes  over- 
whelming in  prayer.  When  in  strong  supplication  he  be- 
sieged the  throne  of  grace,  by  the  help  of  the  Lord,  he 
swept  every  thing  before  him,  and  both  saint  and  sinner 
would  be  completely  cut  loose  from  their  moorings.  Bro- 
ther F.  makes  jon  think  of  a  giant  of  the  forest,  with  a 
mighty  club,  driving  every  thing  before  him.  On  the  other 
hand,  Brother  E.  was  gentle  and  winning — stealing  softly 
his  way  to  the  hearts  of  his  hearers.  At  times,  he  w^as  like 
a  beautiful  brooklet,  kissing  the  pebbles  as  it  rolled  over 
them.  And  then  again,  he  would  remind  you  of,  a  calm, 
broad  lake,  with  snow-white  swans  sailing  gracefully  over 
its  deep  water,  while  the  busy  fisherman  would  be  seen  pty- 


THE   WOMAN   OF   SAMAEIA.  217 

ing  their  trade,  and  while  the  palaces  of  the  wealthy,  and  the 
humble  cottages  of  the  honest  poor,  might  be  seen  mirrored 
low  down  in  the  deep  water.  And  then,  again,  he  would 
make  saint  and  sinner  fall  in  love  with  him,  for  he  would 
remind  them  so  much  of  some  gallant  crusader  returning 
from  the  Holy  Land,  and  Avinning  the  fair  lady  by  sweet 
music  played  under  her  window,  while  the  virgin  moon 
wished  she  were  nearer  that  she  might  hear  better. 

I  met  them  at  Midway,  and  pleasantly  travelled  with 
them  to  Zion.  It  was  their  first  and  last  appointment  there. 
We  had  l)een  looking  to  the  meeting  with  much  interest ;  for 
I  had  told  the  friends  of  these  brethren,  and  expectation  was 
high.  Brother  E.  had  an  old  friend  in  the  neighborhood — 
the  honorable  disguised  gentleman ;  they  had  formerly  been 
very  intimate,  but  had  not  met  for  some  time,  and  Brother 
E.  was  anticipating  much  pleasure  from  the  meeting.  He 
also  hoped,  through  grace,  to  reach  the  heart  of  his  old  com- 
rade ;  if  no  more,  to  cause  him  to  think  more  seriously  of 
religion  than  he  had  apparently  done  for  years.  On  Satur- 
day, we  had  a  good  turn-out  for  the  day ;  and  the  friends 
were  presented  to  the  ministers,  and  arrangements  were 
made  for  the  different  services.  Brother  E.  preached  the 
first  sermon  ;  his  subject  was,  the  Lord  telling  the  Avoman 
of  Samaria,  that  if  she  had  asked  of  him,  he  would  have 
given  her  "  the  living  water."  This  was,  in  some  respects, 
the  most  interesting  sermon  that  had  been  delivered  there 
for  a  long  time.  His  introduction  Avas  most  beautiful ;  he 
spoke  of  the  surrounding  scenery,  and  the  holy  memories 
connected  thercAvith.  The  third  great  patriarch,  and  his 
family,  and  his  many  flocks  broAvsing  on  the  rich  pastures, 
rose  before  us  as  large  as  life.  He  also  spoke  of  some  of  the 
great  events  that  occurred  in  that  neighborhood  ;  and  then 
the  blessed  Saviour  and  his  apostles,  dust  covered  and  Aveary, 
were  seen  toiling  along  the  highway,  while  the  gentle  winds  of 
Palestine  stirred  their  flowing  locks.  And  the  kind  Teacher, 
as  he  passed  some  striking  object  in  the  beautiful  landscaj^e, 
stopped  and  drew  some  truthful  lesson  from  the  objects  be- 
fore them.  And  thus  he  passed  on,  until  he  reached  Jacob's 
well,  where  he  sat  down  weary  and  faint,  while  his  disciples 
14 


218  STRAY    LEAVES. 

went  for  somethinn;  to  sustain  the  mortal  life.  And  then  we 
beheld  ho  plainly  the  Eastern  woman,  as  she,  with  pitcher 
in  hand,  hastened  to  the  well.  And  a  sermon  which  well 
suited  the  preface  followed.  All  I  heard  speak  of  it  were 
much  pleased.  Brother  II.  and  myself  expressed  a  strong 
wish  that  the  sermon  could  have  been  reserved  for  Sunday. 
That  day  we  dined  and  spent  the  night  at  Brother  Howell's. 
Brother  K.  was  disappointed  that  his  friend  was  not  out,  and 
hoped  he  would  be  there  the  next  day. 

Brother  F.  preached  that  night,  and  we  had  quite  a  crowd 
out.  His  loud  voice  rang  through  the  house  and  surrounding 
woods;  and  Brother  H.  concluded  that  he  preached  even 
louder  than  he  himself  did.  What  a  gracious  night  that  was, 
through  the  mercy  of  God !  The  Lord  was  in  his  holy  tem- 
ple ;  and  his  stately  steps  were  heard  amid  the  golden  candle- 
sticks. And  the  servants  of  the  Lord  rejoiced  in  the  hope 
of  heaven,  when  the  toils  of  life  should  be  over,  in  blessed 
eternity. 

The  holy  Sabbath  was  a  bright,  beautiful  day ;  the  inter- 
esting services  of  the  morning  were  over,  and  the  hour  for 
preaching  had  come.  Many  persons  w^ere  out — some  coming 
from  a  distance.  Brother  E.  delivered  the  first  sermon ;  but 
he  was  complaining  of  a  headache,  as  he  had  not  rested  well 
the  past  night.  And  besides  all  this,  he  had  heard  that  his 
friend  was  not  there,  which  cast  down  his  spirits  very  much. 
He  gave  us  a  good  discourse,  but  not  equal  to  the  one  the 
day  before. 

Brother  Felder  preached  the  last  sermon,  and  swung  clear 
from  first  to  last.  His  "  banner  was  on  the  outer  wall,  for 
the  cry  was,  still  they  come."  He  spoke  loud,  strong, 
powerfully — and  the  sound  of  his  Master's  steps  was  heard 
close  behind  him.  The  shout  of  a  king  was  in  the  camp  of 
Israel ;  and  the  Holy  Spirit  came  down  upon  the  congrega- 
tion. The  church  roused  herself,  and  came  willingly  to  the 
help  of  the  Lord  against  the  mighty.  Mourners  crowded 
the  altar ;  and  a  desperately  wicked  man  rushed  up,  as  if 
fleeing  from  the  open  mouth  of  hell.  We  had  an  old-time 
meeting,  which  would  have  been  protracted  for  several  days, 
had  it  been  a  suitable  time  of  the  year. 


SHRINKING   FROM   DUTY.  219 

More  than  thirty-one  years  ago — some  time  before  I_^T3egau 
to  preach — there  was  a  quarterly  meeting  at  old  Zion.  Often 
in  those  days  (I  am  very  sorry  for  it,  but  so  it  was),  I  would 
be  ashamed  to  have  family  prayer  before  persons  who  were 
not  members  of  the  church.  One  night,  two  ladies,  who  ex- 
pected to  attend  the  meeting,  stopped  with  us — one  of  them 
my  wife's  mother,  and  the  other  her  aunt,  who  was  a  mem- 
ber of  the  church.  Her  mother  was  not,  and — would  you 
believe  it  ? — I  refused  to  have  family  prayer  before  them. 
'No  persuasion  of  my  wife  prevailed  with  me.  I  was  at  the 
time  an  exhorter,  and  of  course  did  wrong ;  I  ought  to  have 
been  ashamed  of  myself.  I  was  told,  they  expected  it,  and 
asked  if  I  did  not  discharge  the  duty;  but  I  could  not  be 
induced  to  take  up  that  cross.  They  sat  up  late,  expecting 
me  to  hold  forth ;  but  not  until  they  retired,  did  I  o  what 
I  had  done  before — pray  with  my  wife.  I  felt  I  had  done 
wrong,  but  so  it  was.  The  next  morning,  we  went  down  to 
Zion.  I  was  much  cast  down,  for  my  wife  had  told  me  how 
sorry  she  was  that  I  had  acted  as  I  did ;  that  her  aunt  was 
quite  surprised  "at  it.  That  Sabbath  was  a  famous  day  at 
the  old  church ;  and  all  the  services  were  solemn  and  inter- 
esting. The  preached  Avord  did  not  return  empty ;  but  the 
good  pleasure  of  the  Lord  was  accomplished.  A  good  im- 
pression rested  on  the  congregation  ;  the  Holy  Spirit  was 
strongly  manifested  in  reproving  of  sin,  of  righteousness, 
and  of  a  judgment  to  come.  The  camp  of  Israel  marched 
on  in  glorious  triumph ;  and  the  flag  of  redemption  waved 
over  the  host  of  the  Lord.  The  door  of  the  church  was 
opened,  and,  to  my  surprise,  Mr.  Carson  and  his  wife,  who 
had  not  long  moved  down  from  the  up-country,  joined,  and 
he  is  now  the  leader  of  Providence.  And,  to  my  still  greater 
surprise  and  pleasure,  my  dear  wife's  iiiother  also  united 
with  the  church.  It  was  a  gracious  meeting,  of  happy  re- 
membrance, at  time-honored  Zion.  I  got  a  great  blessino- 
that  day,  though  I  deserved  it  not ;  but  it  was  of  the  free, 
boundless  mercy  of  the  Most  High.  I  was  much  encourao-ed 
— much  strengthened ;  and  I  went  home  rejoicing  in  the 
hope  of  immortality,  far  beyond  the  "blue  throned  stars," 
where  sickness  and  sorrow  are  known  and  felt  no  more. 


220  STRAY    LEAVES. 

And  I  firmly  resolved,  by  the  grace  of  the  Lord,  that  I 
would  never  again  refuse  to  conduct  family  prayer  before 
the  world ;  and  thus  far  I  have  faced  that  fire,  bless  the 
the  Lord,  O  !  my  soul. 

'-  But,"  says  one,  "  what  about  the  last  freshet  in  the 
Edisto  ?"  I  will  tell  you;  but  you  must  not  require  names. 
It  is  not  a  very  pleasant  subject  to  me ;  which  is  my  reason 
for  putting  it  off  so  long.  You  must  know,  then,  that  when 
the  Wandering  Arab  is  much  excited,  if  he  receives  an  unex- 
pected check,  or  damper  to  his  spirits,  the  reaction  is  some- 
times tremendous,  and  the  tide  turns  down  the  other  way, 
with  the  force  of  a  mountain  torrent,  bearing  every  thing 
with  it.  Or,  in  other  words,  the  preacher  is  as  suddenly  de- 
pressed, as  his  spirits  have  been  exalted;  and  if  this  comes 
from  an  unexpected  quarter — from  some  one  whom  ha  con- 
sidered very  zealous,  and  enjoying  much  religion — he  feels 
nearly  as  distressed  as  the  great  Caesar  did,  when  the  much- 
loved  Brutus  stabbed  him.  But,  alas !  for  the  Strange 
Preacher ;  he  cannot  yield  to  his  fate  with  the  grace  that 
the  mighty  Eoman  did. 

Well  then,  my  friends,  you  must  know  that  once  in  the 
olden  time,  in  the  month  of  July,  there  was  a  very  high 
freshet  in  the  Edisto,  a  few  days  before  a  meeting  at  old 
Zion.  The  time  came,  we  had  a  large  crowd  out — persons 
from  a  long  distance  all  around.  I  do  not  remember  who 
preached,  but  I  know  that  the  impression  was  very  good. 
It  w^as  deep,  tremendous,  overwhelming,  and  every  thing 
bowed  before  it — a  time  of  great  excitement.  But  the  most 
roused  up  of  that  great  crowd  was  the  Wandering  Arab. 
He  was  cut  loose  from  all  his  moorings ;  and  was  rushing 
over  the  bar,  at  the  rate  of  thirty  miles  to  the  hour.  He 
sprang  to  his  feet;*he  clapped  his  hands,  and  shouted  at  the 
top  of  his  voice,  "  Farewell  world ! "  And  he  went  on 
shaking  hands,  expecting  to  pass  through  the  entire  crowd, 
perhaps  even  to  have  gone  to  some  who  w^ere  outside,  and 
to  beg  them  to  let  him  pray  for  them.  All  this  time,  there 
was  a  brother,  of  whom  the  parson  thought  much,  seated 
with  his  head  bowed  quite  low.  The  Strange  Preacher  had 
noticed  him,  and  expected,  that  though  very  quiet,  he  was 


THE   LAST    EDISTO   FRESHET.  221 

enjoying  the  meeting  as  much  as  any  one ;  for  you  know,  it 
is  said,  that  "  still  water  runs  deep."  On  went  the  Wander- 
ing Arab,  shaking  hands.  Brothers  H.  and  L.  threw  their 
arms  around  him ;  and  his  good  friend,  "  the  last  of  the 
Mohicans,"  gave  him  an  embrace  which  he  expects  to  re- 
member on  the  other  side  of  the  flood.  And  on  went  the 
AVar  Preacher,  with  every  flag  unfurled,  and  his  "  banner  on 
the  outer  wall,  for  the  cry  was,  still  they  come."  He  clapped 
his  hands,  and  called  out,  "  Farewell  world ! "  About  the 
eighth  person  with  whom  he  ofl'ered  to  shake  hands,  was  the 
gentleman  who  was  sitting  very  still,  with  his  head  bowed 
down.  The  parson  was  so  much  excited  that  it  was  with 
difliculty  he  kept  his  feet.  He  told  the  brother,  he  knew  he 
was  enjoying  himself  very  much,  and  that  he  was  glad  to 
see  it ;  and  he  hoped  they  would  meet  at  last,  when  the 
warfare  was  over,  in  the  green  fields  of  Eden,  at  rest  for 
evermore.  The  brother  slowly  raised  his  head,  and  with  a 
sigh,  "  ivio  pectore,''  from  the  lowest  depths  of  his  troubled 
heart,  and  the  tears  streaming  from  his  eyes,  he  said,  "  O, 
Brother  Bellinger,  Brother  Bellinger  !  the  last  freshet  in  the 
Edisto  has  drowned  all  my  corn;  and  it  is  too  late  to  re- 
plant." 

"  Tell  it  not  in  Gath,  mention  it  not  in  Askelon,  lest  the 
daughters  of  the  Philistines  rejoice."  O !  my  soul,  what  a 
fall  was  there  !  The  far-famed  War  Preacher — the  brave 
soldier  of  a  hundred  stricken  fields,  fell  from  his  gallant 
steed,  as  if  shot  through  the  heart.  We  are  told,  that  in 
ancient  times,  "the  woods,  the  streams,  the  flowers,  the 
birds,  and  the  stars  all  wept,"  when  Bion,  the  poet,  died. 
And  I  hope  all  my  friends  who  read  these  lines,  will  feel  very 
sorry  for  me ;  for  I  expect  never  to  forget  that  mournful  fall, 
and  the  last  freshet  in  the  Edisto. 

But  it  is  time  to  close.  All  hail !  to  the  old  Zion  church, 
and  her  time-houvored  class-leader.  All  hail !  to  the  "  last  of 
the  Mohicans,"  who  sits  almost  alone,  amid  the  graves  of  his 
warriors  long  since  gone  to  the  hunting  lands  of  the  Great 
Spirit ;  and  who  yet  sings  the  much-loved  songs  of  his  tribe, 
near  the  junction  of  the  waters  of  the  Lemon  Swamp  and 
the  Saltketcher. 


J.EAF  THE  THIRTY-THIRD. 

MY  SECOND  VISIT  TO  KOCK  SPIlIxNCS  CAMP-GROUND,  NORTH  CAR- 
OLINA, AND  THE  STAR  OF  II.  II.  DURANT  AGAIN  IN  THE 
ASCENDANT. 

AVoll.  friends,  wo  Avere  off  ac^ain  for  another  trip  to  the 
fur-famed  Rock  Springs.  I  met  Brother  Durant  at  the  place 
of  appointment,  and  we  greeted  each  other  as  friends  do, 
who  have  h:)ved,  and  who  have  been  separated  for  a  long 
time.  Everything  was  ready,  and  after  an  early  dinner,  we 
drove  from  Lincolnton  to  the  ground  in  due  time.  Brother 
D.  had  been  drilling  me  since  we  met,  that  I  might  speak 
loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  the  many  thousands  who  would 
be  present.  He  placed  himself  about  one  hundred  yards  off, 
and  I  was  to  give  out  a  hymn  loud  enough  for  him  to  hear. 
After  trying  very  often,  I  succeeded  in  making  him  hear. 
After  sixteen  years'  absence,  I  was  at  the  renowned  camp- 
ground once  more ;  arid  the  friends  who  remembered  me 
gathered  around,  and  gave  me  a  warm  welcome.  The  im- 
mense multitude  did  not  impress  me  as  at  first,  for  I  had 
become  accustomed  to  crowds ;  and,  although  there  may 
have  been  more  persons  out  than  at  my  first  visit,  I  did  not 
gaze  at  them  with  so  much  wonder.  The  several  hundred 
tents  were  still  there,  thronged  to  overflowing;  but,  O,  my 
soul !  how  many  who  were  there  before  had  passed  into  the 
spirit  world. 

I  found  many  ministers  on  the  ground — both  local  and 
travelling — all  armed  with  the  panoply  of  heaven,  prepared 
for  battle  against  the  king  of  darkness.  All  classes  of  peo- 
ple, from  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  could  be  seen  there — 
many  from  over  a  hundred  miles  away,  who  cared  very 
little  for  the  preaching  at  the  stand,  for  they  seldom  vv^ent 
there.  Some  never  went  at  all ;  but  spent  their  time  in  eat- 
ing, drinking,  and  talking  politics,  and  everything  else  but 
religion.  Some  met  there  as  on  a  kind  of  middle  ground, 
and  exchanged  visits,  and  drank  wine,  and  enjoyed  them- 


THE    ROAD   TO   THE   SPRING.  223 

selves  as  they  pleased.  Members  of  Congress  met  there,  to 
settle  national  affairs.  And  there  were  some  present,  who 
dressed  so  differently  from  the  majority  around  them,  that 
3"0u  wondered  what  brought  them  there.  They  moved 
about,  and  talked,  and  looked,  as  if  they  wished  it  under- 
stood that  they  were  not  made  from  the  same  clay  as  the 
crowd  around ;  and  they  kept  to  lAiemselves  as  much  as 
possible.  Their  motto  seemed  to  be,  "  I  hate  the  profane 
vulgar."  What  cared  they  about  religion  or  preaching,  par- 
ticularly that  of  the  loud-shouting  Methodists?  And  if,  by 
mere  chance,  they  happened  to  be  at  the  stand,  when  there 
was  any  noise  or  excitement,  they  left  at  once.  Others  went 
there  regularly  ;  you  never  missed  them,  their  places  being 
always  filled ;  but  they  had  no  wish  to  be  spiritually  bene- 
fitted, and  if  you  expected  it  you  would  be  disai:>pointed — for 
they  were  there  only  to  find  fault  with  the  services.  In 
their  opinion,  those  preachers  were  the  poorest  they  had  ever 
heard — they  could  do  better  themselves  ;  and  as  for  the  sing- 
ing, that  might  have  done,  had  it  not  been  quite  so  loud ! 
They  believed  in  a  silent,  decent  sort  of  religion — so  silent, 
that  no  one  knew  whether  you  had  it  or  not,  and  which 
would  not  prevent  you  from  attending  the  theatre,  race- 
ground,  or  ball-room.  Ard  then  when  they  felt  like  sleeping 
under  a  long  sermon,  they  had  onl}-  to  drop  their  heads. 
And  after  a  while,  when  mourrers  were  called  up,  some 
preacher  would  come,  who  thought  they  were  under  convic- 
tion, and  ask  them  to  let  him  pray  for  them — which  would 
be  a  fine  joke  to  tell  their  friends  when  they  went  home, 
how  the  poor  man  was  so  cast  down  when  they  looked  up 
and  smiled  in  his  face,  and  asked  him  to  excuse  them.  And 
they  could  also  tell  their  friends  of  a  very  Strange  Preacher 
who  was  there,  who  told  them  about  the  old-time  heroes  and 
men — about  Brutus,  and  Csesar,  and  others — who  sometimes 
made  them  laugh  a  good  deal,  and  then  again  they  would 
cry  in  spite  of  all  they  could  do. 

Go  with  me  to  the  good  spring  not  far  off — how  cool  and 
delightful  the  water  is !  But  let  us  turn  aside,  and  sit  down 
on  this  old  log,  and  notice  the  different  groups  as  they  pass 
to  and  fro.     Look  at  that  aged  couple,  how  slowly  they 


224  STRAY    LEAVES. 

climb  up  the  hill,  with  buckets  of  water,  so  heavy  for  them 
to  carry.  The  most  of  their  children  and  grandchidren  are 
dead,  or  gone  to  the  rich  hinds  of  the  West,  or  to  California 
to  dig  for  gold — and  they  are  all  alone.  Are  you  not  sorry 
for  them  ?  Their  youngest  son  is  a  preacher,  and  has  been 
travelling  for  years,  from  the  mountains  to  the  sea-board; 
and  their  youngest  daughter  stayed  at  home  to  take  care  of 
them,  but  was  taken  from  them  by  death,  a  few  months  ago. 
But  let  me  tell  you  some  good  news  about  them — they  love 
the  Lord,  and  are  bound  for  heaven.  They  joined  the  church 
fifty  years  ago,  when  Methodism  first  came  into  the  country  ; 
and  they  have  been  coming  here  to  camp-meeting  ever  since 
the  first  one  was  held.  They  are  happy  and  contented,  and 
expect  to  cross  the  flood  before  long.  They  have  some  in- 
teresting tales  to  tell  of  old  times.  They  have  a  snug  little 
house  in  a  corner  of  the  yard,  which  they  call  the  prophet's 
room.  And  when  the  preacher  stops  there  at  night,  you 
ought  to  be  there  to  see  how  much  they  make  of  him ;  and 
when  he  leaves  in  the  morning,  the  old  lady  will  be  sure  to 
have  something  to  send  to  the  parsonage.  And  they  always 
have  a  little  to  throw  into  the  hat  when  it  is  passed  round. 
The  preachers  would  be  well  supported,  if  all  the  members 
were  like  that  old  man  and  his  wife,  who  are  carrying  water 
up  the  hill.  They  expect  a  minister  to  dine  with  them  to- 
day, and  are  glad ;  perhaps  it  was  that  they  were  speaking 
of  as  they  passed  us.  Come  now,  tell  me  the  truth  ;  if  you 
had  known  all  this,  would  you  not  have  offered  to  help 
them? 

Look  to  your  right,  at  that  group  of  young  women,  who 
are  coming  down  the  hill  with  pails  and  pitchers.  Notice 
those  two  behind  the  rest,  with  their  arms  around  each 
other,  with  sweet  flowers  in  their  hair.  The  one  nearest  you 
has  black,  the  other  blue,  ej^es.  AYhich  is  the  prettiest  ?  It 
is  hard  to  tell.  Do  you  know  what  I  think  of  them  ?  It  is 
this — I  doubt  very  much  if  the  Assyrian  maiden  who  won 
Jacob's  heart  at  the  well  was  more  lovely  than  those  two/ 
daughters  of  the  old  North  State.  / 

Now,  turn  to  your  left.     Did  you  hear  that  loud  laugh? 
See  those  young  men  with  their  coats  off,  and  each  with  a 


THE   PASSEES-BY   DESCRIBED.  225 

large  bucket  in  his  hands.  They  are  coming  to  the  spring 
for  water,  and  they  hope  to  be  in  time  to  help  those  young 
ladies.  And  perhaps  they  were  laughing  about  which  of 
them  should  wait  on  those  girls  with  the  flowers  in  their 
hair.  Let  us  see  who  it  will  be.  'Now  they  have  all  passed. 
Was  it  not  a  fine  picture  ? 

But  here  comes  another  party  of  loud-talking  men.  How 
rough  and  savage  they  look !  I  suspect  they  are  party  of 
"  blacklegs"  of  the  lowest  grade ;  for  there  are  a  number  of 
such  on  the  ground,  and  they  were  up  last  night  playing 
cards.  They  are  coming  to  the  spring  now,  I  guess,  to  take 
at  least  two  drinks  of  rum,  and  then  they  will  retire  to  the 
woods,  to  play  until  near  sunset.  Those  men  are  up  to  any 
thing  that  is  bad ;  and  I  would  be  afraid  to  meet  those  two 
desperate  looking  fellows  in  front,  in  some  lonely  place  by 
myself. 

But  the  crowd  is  constantly  passing  and  re-passing.  Who 
comes  next  ?  Hoav  silent  are  those  who  are  now  passing  ! 
Let  us  watch  them.  See,  they  have  passed  the  spring  with- 
out stopping.  Let  us  stand  up,  and  notice  them  as  long  as 
we  can,  and  try  to  find  out  what  they  are  going  to  do.  Now 
they  stop,  and  uncover  their  heads.  I  know  now  who  they 
are.  They  are  a  company  of  young  men  who  have  been  up 
for  prayer,  and  they  have  a  class-leader  among  them,  and 
they  are  going  to  spend  some  time  in  humble  supplication 
before  the  throne  of  grace.  They  will  remain  out  there,  even 
if  they  miss  the  next  service  at  the  stand ;  for  some  of  them 
are  expecting  to  be  happily  converted  before  they  return. 
And  I  suspect  this  is  not  the  first  time  they  have  been  out 
there.  Perhaps  that  class-leader  got  religion  there  years  ago, 
and  he  has  a  strong  faith  that  some  of  them  will  be  blessed 
there  this  time — for  he  is  full  of  the  Holy  Ghost  and  of 
power. 

Now  let  us  sit  down  again,  and  view  the  groups  still 
coming.  There  are  some  six  or  seven  grave,  serious-looking 
men  coming  down  the  hill ;  and  I  hear  one  or  two  of  them 
singing  in  a  low  voice.  The  one  who  walks  behind  seems  to 
be  in  deep  study.  I  suspect  they  are  a  party  of  preachers 
coming  down  to  the  famous  spring,  to  drink  the  water  fresh 


226  STRAY    LEAVES. 

and  cool — aiul  I  ruthor  lliiiik  the  one  beliind  will  preach 
next,  which  is  the  reason  why  he  is  so  wrapped  in  thoui^ht. 
I  do  not  think  he  will  return  with  them,  hut  go  off  to  pray 
for  the  blessing  of  the  Lord,  and  to  read  over  carefully  the 
sketch  he  has  with  him.  I  hope  we  will  he  in  time  to  hear 
his  sermon,  for  I  suspect  it  has  l)ecn  well  arranged;  for  re- 
port says  he  is  very, pious,  and  much  beloved  by  the  church, 
and  that  the  Lord  has  blessed  him  with  some  fine  revivals, 
and  that  all  are  wishing  he  will  be  sent  back  the  next  3'ear. 
The  preachers  have  passed  back,  but  I  do  not  see  him ;  I 
suppose  he  is  now  looking  to  the  hills,  from  whence  his 
strength  cometh. 

How  many  different  classes  of  persons  have  passed  !  This 
is  a  curious  world  in  which  we  live,  is  it  not? 

But  w^ho  are  those  coming  now?  There  seems  to  be  some- 
thing w^rong.  Hear  how  loud  they  talk.  And  see,  they 
strike  together  their  clenched  fists.  What  can  it  mean  ?  I 
suspect  one  of  two  things — they  must  either  belong  to  that 
party  of  rowdies,  who  came  to  the  stand  last  night  after 
most  of  the  people  had  left,  and  only  a  few  remained  with 
the  mourners,  and  behaved  very  badly,  creating  quite  a  dis- 
turbance, and  doing  much  to  break  up  the  meeting,  some  of 
whom  the  stewards  had  arrested,  and  I  suppose  they  are 
bent  on  having  satisfaction  ;  or,  perhaps  they  are  some  of 
those  rough  customers  who  will  attend  camp-meetings,  and 
who  have  had  a  quarrel,  and  are  going  to  the  woods  to  settle 
the  difficulty  by  a  rough  and  tumble  fight.  They  have 
passed  the  spring,  so  I  suppose  the  last  guess  w^as  right.. 

See,  that  young  preacher  is  returning  by  himself  And  now 
there  are  two  young  persons  coming  together.  Both  seem 
much  excited.  I  suspect  they  are  two  happy  lovers,  and  all 
is  again  right  between  them.  Some  time  back,  there  was  a 
breach  between  them  ;  for  you  know  it  has  been  said,  "  true 
love  never  runs  smooth."  They  had  each  sent  back  the  other's 
letters,  and  other  mementoes,  and  were  quite  wretched  for 
months.  But  while  going  to  the  stand  last  night,  it  was  all 
made  up  again.  And  they  are  quite  alone  now.  to  converse 
together,  and  perhaps  appoint  the  wedding  day,  and  also  to 
settle  who  is  to  have  the  pleasure  of  uniting  them  for  life — 


227 

whether  the  young  preacher  on  the  circuit,  or  the  old  minis- 
ter who  has  charge.  Is  that  not  a  lovely  picture,  when  'tis 
finished  by  saying,  that  both  are  in  the  same  church,  and 
enjoy  heartfelt  religion  ?  And  that  was  the  reason  wh}^  the 
lovers'  quarrel  was  made  up  so  easily.  I  trust  they  did  not 
see  us  as  they  passed,  for  they  were  thinking  only  of  each 
other.  Did  you  notice  what  a  sweet  kiss  the  happy  youth 
gave  his  betrothed  while  at  the  spring?  I  do  not  think 
they  saw  us. 

I  wonder  who  that  large  party  of  men  are,  who  are 
coming  yonder.  They  must  be  conversing  on  some  very 
interesting  topic.  One  takes  out  a  piece  of  money,  and 
hands  it  to  another.  They  have  been  for  some  time  trying 
to  swap  horses,  and  that  mone}^  paid  closed  the  bargain. 

See  that  other  party  approaching  now — one  talking  while 
the  others  are  listening.  He  is  the  same  young  man  you 
saw  in  the  preachers'  tent  yesterday,  who  was  so  very  polite. 
He  is  a  candidate  for  Congress,  and  is  trying  to  make  those 
men  believe,  that  unless  he  is  elected,  the  government  will 
fall  to  pieces.  On  their  return,  he  seems  as  much  interested 
as  ever. 

But  who  are  those  now  going  by  ?  A  party  of  women, 
with  bold,  wicked  front,  and  painted  faces,  and  gay  dress. 
Those  fallen  ones  are  they  of  whom  the  wise  man  said,  •'  Let 
not  thy  heart  incline  to  her  ways.  She  has  cast  down  many 
wounded ;  her  house  is  in  the  way  to  hell,  going  down  to  the 
chambers  of  death." 

Do,  my  friends,  excuse  me  for  having  kept  you  waitino-  so 
long ;  but  I  wished  to  show  you  some  of  the  many  sights 
that  were  to  be  seen  at  that  famous  camp-ground. 

The  horn  had  sounded,  and  the  time  for  preaching  had 
come,  and  the  young  minister  was  in  the  j^ulpit.  What  im- 
mense multitudes  of  immortal  souls  bound  for  eternity  were 
before  us,  who  were  sailing  on  the  river  of  life  which  empties 
into  the  ocean  of  eternity  !  As  they  lived  here,  so  will  it  be 
in  the  world  to  come  ;  for  "  he  that  soweth  to  the  flesh,  shall 
of  the  flesh  reap  corruption  ;  but  he  that  soweth  to  the  sj^irit, 
shall  of  the  spirit  reap  life  everlasting."  How  far,  do  jou 
think,  those  thousands  could  have  been  heard,  as  they  sung 


228  STRAY    LEAVES. 

with  stroiii:^,  clear,  iip-country  voices?  As  far  as  Beatty's 
Ford,  on  the  Catawba  river,  which  was  a  few  miles  off?  If 
the  wind  was  blowiiiu;  that  Avay,  perhaps  they  might  have 
been  heard  most  of  the  distance.  What  strong  voices  they 
had!  Do  you  think  a  preacher  with  such  lungs  could  ever 
break  down  ?  The  prayer  was  over,  and  the  young  preacher 
gave  out  his  text — but  I  have  forgotten  what  it  was.  He 
appeared  to  be  deeply  in  earnest,  and  to  weigh  well  what  he 
was  saying.  His  words  came  from  the  heart,  and  went  to 
the  hearts  of  his  hearers.  And  how  much  of  hope  and  truth 
was  in  that  glance  which  he  occasionally  raised  to  the  heaven 
above.  His  subject  was  well  arranged ;  and  as  he  went  on, 
he  became  still  more  deeply  interesting.  I  was  sorry  to  hear 
the  loud  crying  of  that  baby  far  back  in  the  crowd,  and  was 
glad  when  the  mother  quieted  it  so  soon.  And  then  those 
dogs  barked  so  loud;  how  much  better  had  it  been,  if  they 
had  been  left  at  home.  But  at  last  every  thing  became  quiet, 
and  nothing  was  heard  but  the  voice  of  the  preacher — who 
was  telling  us  of  the  green  fields  of  Eden.  How  he  wept 
when  he  told  the  sinners  of  the  joys  of  the  better  world — 
where  so  many  of  their  loved  ones  had  gone,  and  where  they 
would  never  go,  unless  they  repented  of  their  sins.  His  feel- 
ings became  too  strong  for  him,  and  he  sat  down.  Then 
some  one  got  up,  and  at  once  invited  mourners  to  the  altar. 
They  went  up,  weeping  and  begging  for  mercy.  And  there 
was  a  loud  shout  heard :  some  good  man — whose  son  had 
strayed  very  far  from  the  right  path,  and  seemed  bent  on 
destruction,  and  who  was  at  last  convicted,  and  made  to 
dread  the  wrath  to  come — was  rejoicing  over  his  return- 
ing son. 

"But,"  says  one,  '' what  about  H.  H.  Durant,  the  great 
revivalist?"  He  was  moving  and  directing  the  form  and 
order  of  the  great  battle ;  and  was  overlooking  the  entire 
battle-field.  He  was  the  great  champion  of  Prince  Imman- 
uel's  forces — that  is,  as  to  the  troops  on  earth.  He  was  the 
presiding  elder,  and  controlled  every  thing — planning  the 
different  attacks  on  the  powers  of  darkness,  and  his  presence 
alone  was  a  host,  whether  he  spoke  or  not. 

Saturday  night  had  come,  and  it  would  soon  be  the  hour 


229 

for  service.  Brother  Diirant  and  myself  had  been  talking  of 
how  many  persons  we  thought  could  be  seated  under  the 
arbor,  independent  of  the  multitudes  who  would  surround 
the  stand,  accommodating  themselves  as  best  they  could. 
We  made  a  calculation,  and  concluded  that  near  six  thousand 
could  be  seated.  We  had  a  great  season  of  grace  from  the 
presence  of  the  Lord  that  night.  Did  you  ever  hear  Brother 
D.  preach  when  the  Holy  Spirit  was  with  him — when  he 
soared  high,  and  took  the  crowd  with  him,  far  above  the 
''blue  throned  stars?"  Did  you  ever  hear  the  shout  of  a 
great  crowd,  while  he  was  speaking  of  the  glories  of  tke  bet- 
ter land — loud  enough  to  be  almost  heard  by  the  sleeping 
dead?  That  was  the  way  he  preached  at  Kock  Springs. 
And  it  seemed  to  me  that  he  took  such  lofty  flights,  you 
might  almost  have  heard  the  harps  of  the  redeemed,  as  they 
walked  the  golden  streets  of  the  Jerusalem  above.  It  ap- 
peared to  me,  during  the  meeting,  that  the  battle  seemed  so 
evenly  balanced — the  tide  of  victory  changing  from  one  side 
to  the  other,  as  if  each  would  gain  the  day — that  a  stranger 
looking  on  could  not  tell  which  side  would  eventually  tri- 
umph, "for  each  adverse  host  was  gored  with  equal  wounds." 
But  if  H.  H.  Durant  would  show  himself,  the  Lord  being  his 
great  help,  the  victory  would  be  won  by  the  host  of  Israel. 
I  know  I  am  not  the  best  judge,  but  I  thought  Brother  D. 
must  have  suited  the  people  of  Eock  Springs  as  well  as  they 
had  ever  been  suited.  But  he  did  not  preach  as  often  at 
those  meetings  as  he  might  have  done,  in  my  opinion.  He 
was  glad  to  see  all  the  preachers  at  work ;  and  I  suspect  the 
prince  of  hell  was  more  or  less  alarmed  when  Brother  Durant 
was  present,  and  in  full  force — for  he  could  not  tell  when  he 
would  suffer  most,  whether  when  his  enemy  was  preaching, 
exhorting,  or  praying,  for  hd*  was  tremendously  powerful  at 
each  engagement. 

I  have  been  three  times  to  Eock  Springs,  and  I  think  Bro- 
ther Durant  was  the  man  for  that  place,  if  there  was  one  in 
the  Conference. 

We  had  a  glorious  time ;  and  Brothers  Hill,  Asbury,  and 
others,  came  up  gallantly  to  the  help  of  the  Lord,  and  bore 
themselves  bravely  in  the  thickest  of  the  fight,  driving  the 


230  STRAY    I.PLVVES. 

powers  of  darkness  from  the  strona;holfls  which  they  liad 
Ijokl  so  lono;.  And  I  rojoieed  when  I  saw  those  <^o6(i  men 
and  (rue  passinu;  throui^h  the  crowd,  sini!;in<i;.  exhortniii;,  and 
j)rayinir,  while  the  sliouts  of  hapjn'  converts  climhed  the  hills 
of  i>;l()ry. 

"While  thinking  of  H.  11.  Durant,  I  am  reminded  of  one  of 
the  scenes  which  took  place  before  the  classic  walls  of  Troy. 
It  was  doubtful  for  a  long  time  which  party  would  gain  the 
victory,  but  it  Avas  at  last  decided  in  favor  of  Troy  by  a 
mighty  chieftain,  whom  Homer  calls  Sarpedon,  and  of  whom 
he  thm  speaks — 

''  Nor  Troy  could  j^onquer,  nor  would  the  Greeks  yield, 
Till  the  great  Sarpedon  towered  amid  the  field — 
A  chief  who  led  to  Troy's  beleaguered  wall 
A  host  of  heroes,  and  outshone  them  all." 

My  friends,  did  you  ever  read  Sir  Walter  Scott's  '•  Ivan- 
hoe,"  where  he  is  describing  the  great  passage  of  arms  at 
Ashby?  I  hope  you  have  not  forgotten  that  field  of  honor. 
Do  you  remember  the  knight  who  was  called  the  Black 
Sluggard  ?  Brother  Durant  might  be  compared  to  him,  at 
more  than  one  of  the  meetings  at  which  I  have  been  with 
him.  Do  you  remember  how  that  knight  stood  aloof  from 
the  general  battle,  taking  no  part  in  it,  until  he  saw  that 
the  time  had-!come  when  his  party  would  be  routed  without 
speedy  help  ;  then  how  he  would  shout  his  battle  cry,  and 
bear  down  on  the  foe  with  the  strength  of  a  falling  ava- 
lanche? So,  while  the  Strength  of  Israel  was  with  him, 
have  I  seen  Durant  do,  on  more  than  one  battle-field ;  and 
that  was  how  he  did  at  Rock  Springs.  Do  you  remember, 
again,  the  fight  at  the  castle,  when  the  friend  of  the  knight 
was  sick  and  imprisoned  ;  and  when  the  battle  was  described 
to  the  wounded  man,  by  a  spectator,  so  much  to  the  life, 
that  he  said  he  would  give  all  that  his  heart  loved  most 
upon  earth,  for  the  pleasure  of  fighting  for  one  hour,  in  such 
a  well-contested  field,  under  such  a  chief?  I  regard  it  as  a 
great  honor,  which  I  ought  never  to  forget,  that  the  War 
Preacher,  once  in  his  life,  at  Rock  Springs,  did  battle  for 
glory  and  for  heaven,  while  H.  H.  Durant  led  the  charge. 


AN    IMMENSE   CROWD.  231 

It  was  Sunday  ;  and  the  great  hour  of  the  meeting  had 
come,  and  an  immense  crowd  was  present — I  presume,  from 
eight  to  ten  thousand  persons  were  in  and  around  the  stand. 
I  was  requested  to  go  with  others  around  the  tents,  and  try 
to  form  some  idea  of  the  number  of  persons  who  would  not 
come  to  the  stand ;  and,  after  looking  about,  we  concluded 
that  from  two  to  three  thous'and  were  still  absent  from  the 
stand.  But  we  returned  in  time  to  hear  the  sermon  ;  and  I 
think  it  was  Brother  D.  who  preached,  and  that  he  gave  us 
one  of  his  happiest  sermons.  It  seemed  to  me,  on  several 
occasions,  that  while  he  only  stood  up  in  the  altar  or  pulpit, 
and  leaned  over  the  book-board,,  and  shouted  aloud,  or  only 
sung  one  of  his  much-loved  songs,  the  Spirit  being  with  him, 
that  a  victory  was  gained,  as  if  some  strong  sermon  had 
been  preached.  Do  you  remember,  friends,  when  the  Tro- 
gans  had  set  fire  to  the  vessels  of  the  Greeks,  and  their  final 
ruin  seemed  as  if  then  come,  that  Achilles  came  out  unarmed, 
and  standing  on  the  top  of  the  wall,  shouted  out  aloud  three 
times ;  and  that  at  the  sound  of  his  voice,  all  Troy  fled  back 
aifrighted,  and  the  vessels  were  saved  ?  Thus  it  was  with 
Durant  at  Eock  Springs.  It  appeared  to  me,  if  he  only 
shouted,  sung,  or  prayed,  it  was  a  battle  fought  and  won  for 
the  hostfi  of  the  Lord. 


LEAF  THE  THIKTY-FOUETH. 

MY    FIRST    VISIT    TO    SPARTANBURG,    WHERE    I    HAD    TO    PREACH 
MORE    THAN    THE    TWO    PROMISED    SERMONS. 

While  on  my  second  visit  to  Kock  Springs,  with  Brother 
Durant,  I  became  so  desirous  of  returning  home,  that  all  his 
efforts  failed  to  persuade  me  to  remain  longer.  So  he  agreed 
to  let  me  off,  if  I  would  promise  to  preach  two  sermons  in 
Spartanburg,  as  I  passed  through.  I  was  sent  there  by  Dr. 
Miller — a  gentleman  of  much  worth  and  respectability,  a 
member  of  the  church,  and  a  friend  of  the  preachers,  and 
one  of  the  leading  men  of  the  old  North  State.  Brother  D. 
gave  me  a  letter  of  introduction  to  Brother  Moore,  in  which 
he  told  him  I  was  to  preach  two  sermons — the  first  to  be  on 
the  night  of  my  arrival.  I  reached  Spartanburg  late  in  the 
evening,  and  Avent  to  Brother  M.'s,  and  delivered  my  letter ; 
and  requested  him  to  have  the  bell  rung,  as  I  wished  to 
preach  my  first  sermon  that  night,  and  I  intended  to  preach 
my  second  the  next  evening,  and  then  leave.  He  told  me, 
it  w^as  so  late  that  but  few  persons  would  be  out ;  and  urged 
me  to  wait  until  the  next  evening,  when  he  thought  I  would 
have  a  better  turn-out — and  I  at  last  consented  to  do  so. 

It  was  rumoured  the  next  day  that  I  was  in  town ;  and  I 
had  an  opportunity  of  looking  about,  and  of  becoming  ac- 
quainted with  Brother  Bobo,  and  several  other  friends,  who 
treated  me  with  much  respect.  I  also  had  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  sister  Wright — a  lady  of  much  faith  and  love,  who 
was  one  of  the  old-time  Methodists,  and  was  well  known  and 
respected  by  all ;  few  such  are  seen  among  us  these  days. 
Brother  Mouzon  was  on  the  circuit — a  man  much  beloved 
and  esteemed  by  the  church,  wherever  he  has  travelled. 
And  he  was,  perhaps,  the  most  popular  preacher  that  ever 
Avas  sent  on  the  Walterboro  circuit,  and  one  of  the  best  in 
the  South  Carolina  Conference.  I  was  warmly  greeted  by 
him  and  his  family,  and  felt  at  once  quite  at  home ;  and  he 
made  me  do  tu^  most  of  the  preaching.  / 


A  GROWING  INTEREST.  233 

At  my  first  appointment  there  was  a  good  turn-out.  There 
was  'only  one  more  sermon,  and  then  my  promise  would  have 
been  fulfilled,  and  I  could  leave  for  home.  But  the  Holy 
Spirit  had  work  for  me  to  do  that  I  knew  not  of,  and  I  found 
Brother  M.  to  be  of  much  help  to  me.  His  advice,  his  strong 
faith,  and  his  prayers  were  a  host  on  the  Lord's  side  against 
the  powers  of  darkness.  On  the  second  night,  the  presence 
of  the  Lord  was  so  manifested,  that  the  friends  earnestly  re- 
quested me  to  remain  ;  and  I  thought  myself  I  ought  to  stay 
longer,  for  there  was  evidently  a  good  work  going  on.  Many 
of  the  mourners  were  much  affected,  and  appeared  deeply  in 
earnest.  The  brethren,  too,  were  becoming  more  zealous  ; 
and  in  the  congregation  there  appeared  to  be  more  attention 
than  usual;  and  now  and  then  a  shout  would  be  heard  in  the 
camp  of  Israel,  and  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  was  abroad  in  the 
crowd  doing  his  holy  Avork.  And  thus  things  passed  on  for 
some  time. 

One  night,  as  is  often  the  case,  I  became  cast  down ;  and 
having  been  very  desirous  before  leaving  Brother  D.  of  re- 
turning home,  I  said  publicly,  that  I  thought  I  would  leave 
the  next  day — but  Brother  Mouzon  and  others  so  entreated 
me,  that  I  resolved  to  remain.  A  lady  of  position  and  much 
intelligence  sent  me  word  by  a  friend  to  be  sure  to  remain, 
for  there  was  a  much  greater  impression  on  the  people  than 
r  thought,  and  that  I  would  be  doing  wrong  to  leave.  She 
was  the  same  lady  who  gave  me  the  name  of  Wandering 
Arab.  So  I  decided  to  remain  a  few  days  longer ;  and  Bro- 
ther M.,  who  is  a  very  pleasant  man,  and  fond  of  a  harmless 
joke,  said  the  next  thing  to  be  dorte  was  to  apprize  the 
friends  of  my  determination  to  stay,  and  that  I  must  be 
paraded  on  the  streets,  so  that  all  might  see  I  had  not  left. 
And  so  I  had  to  walk  about  with  him  through  the  business 
part  of  the  town,  as  he  said,  that  all  might  know  that  the 
War  Preacher  was  still  at  his  post.  I  was  glad  when  the 
marching  about  was  over.  And  from  that  time  the  meeting 
continued  to  increase  in  interest — the  whole  place  was  under 
religious  influence,  and  members  from  other  churches  came 
forward  and  took  part  in  the  services ;  and  some  of  the  chil- 
dren of  the  chief  families  were  among  the  mourners  and  eon- 
15 


234  STRAY    LEAVES. 

verts  of  the  meeting.  The  congregation  generally  remained 
after  preaching,  singing  and  praying  together.  And  some  of 
the  brethren  were  very  useful  in  pushing  on  the  work  of  the 
Lord,  which  was  widely  extending,  embracing  all  classes  of 
the  people.  By  this  time  I  had  been  to  see  several  families 
of  our-cluireh.  and  as  usual,  I  tried  to  be  engaged  in  the  ser- 
vice of  my  Master — advising  and  praying  with  them  all  the 
time ;  for  I  think  almost  as  much  good  is  done  in  that  way 
as  by  the  preaching  of  the  word.  Moreover,  many  persons 
from  the  country,  who  had  heard  of  the  meeting,  were 
present  with  us,  thus  adding  to  the  pleasures  of  the  occa- 
sion. But  of  course,  there  were  some  there,  as  at  all  such 
places,  who  did  not  seem  much  pleased  with  what  was  going 
on — only  as  it  served  to  pass  away  time,  or  to  spend  what  is 
termed  an  idle  hour.  And  doubtless  there  were  some  pre- 
sent to  find  fault  with  and  make  sport  at  what  they  saw. 

One  night  in  particular,  there  was  a  great  outpouring  of 
the  blessed  Spirit,  and  I  have  seldom  seen  a  more  general 
interest  than  was  then  manifested.  Some  of  the  members 
were,  perhaps,  more  influenced  than  they  had  ever  been  be- 
fore ;  and  some  were  at  length  prostrated  by  the  Holy  Ghost, 
which  rested  upon  them.  Brother  M.  himself,  was  much 
more  affected  than  any  of  us  had  seen  or  heard  of  before. 
He  seemed  to  be  completely  transported  with  holy,  happy 
thoughts,  as  if  he  was  exalted  to  the  third  heaven,  far  beyond 
the  "blue  throned  stars;"  as  if  he  heard  the  hallelujahs  of 
heaven ;  as  if  he  was  hearing  the  sweet  harps  of  glory.  I 
have  been  to  hundreds  of  places  where  the  Lord's  work  was 
much  revived,  but  to  very  few  where  there  was  more  of  the 
demonstration  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  By  this  time,  there  were 
several  bright  and  happy  conversions  among  those  seeking 
the  forgiveness  of  their  sins ;  and  the  voice  of  rejoicing  was 
heard  among  the  children  of  the  Lord ;  and  some  desperate 
spirits  on  the  way  to  destruction,  rushing  like  the  horse  into 
battle,'  were  arrested.in  their  mad  career,  and  were  ready  to 
close  in  with  the  offers  of  salvation.  Several  said  there  had 
not  been  such  a  religious  feeling  in  their  midst  for  many 
years.     I  rejoiced  very  much,  and  praised  the  Lord  for  his 


WAVING  THE   FLAG.  235 

gracious  displays  of  power,  and  for  the  hope  of  eternal  life 
when  free  from  the  trouble  of  earth. 

Brother  Mouzon  surprised  me  one  night,  by  saying  to  me, 
that  I  had  disappointed  several  persons  very  much,  who  had 
been  looking  for  some  manifestation  on  the  part  of  the  War 
Preacher,  which  they  had  been  led  to  expect ;  and  that  he 
was  afraid;  if  they  were  not  soon  gratified  there  would  be  a 
falling  off  in  the  interest  of  the  meeting;  and  he  said  that 
was  why  the  crowd  remained  so  late  at  the  last  service,  and 
they  said  that  if  the  display  did  not  take  place  the  next 
night,  they  would  not  come  again,  as  they  had  so  often  been 
dissappointed.  I  asked  him  what  it  was.  He  said,  he  had 
told  them  that  at  times  I  had  been  known  to  wave  the  flag 
for  the  friends,  which  always  resulted  in  a  happy  eifect,  and 
that  he  told  them  he  thought  I  would  do  it  there,  and  that 
there  was  a  strong  wish  in  the  congregation  to  see  the 
waving  of  the  War  Preacher's  banner.  He  also  told  me, 
that  his  wife  and  sister  took  it  by  turns  to  stay  at  home 
with  the  children ;  and  whenever  it  was  his  wife's  turn  to 
remain  with  them,  she  almost  cried  at  the  thought  of  its 
being  done  in  her  absence  ;  and  he  requested  me  to  do  so  the 
next  night.  I  told  him  I  would,  if  the  Lord  would  grant  us 
a  good  meeting.  I  suppose  it  is  generally  understood  that  I 
am  a  very  singular  person  and  preacher ;  for  which  reason  I 
am  allowed  to  do  what  for  other  persons  would  be  consi- 
dered quite  out  of  order ;  for  strange  persons  are  expected  to 
say  and  do  strange  things.  So  the  next  night,  there  w^as 
the  largest  turn-out  that  we  had  yet  had ;  and  one  could  see 
that  there  was  something  unusual  on  foot.  I  had  been  pray- 
ing for  the  divine  strength  of  Israel  to  be  granted  to  us  on 
that  occasion ;  and  I  remember  well  what  a  gracious  season 
of  rejoicing  we  had.  The  stately  steps  of  Prince  Immanuel 
were  felt  and  heard  among  the  golden  candlesticks ;  and  the 
right  hand  of  the  Lord  did  valiantly  in  the  great  crowd  pre- 
sent. The  sermon  was  over,  and  the  excitement  was  very 
high  ;  and  I  thought  that  the  time  had  come.  So  I  told 
them  I  was  sorry  to  learn  that  several  persons  had  been 
much  disappointed  at  not  seeing  the  War  Preacher  wave  his 
flag  for  the  congregation  ]  and  that  I  understood,  among  the 


236  STRAY   LEAVES. 

ladies  particularly,  there  had  been  a  great  expectation,  and 
that  1  did  not  have  the  heart  to  keep  them  longer  in  sus- 
pense. I  then  gave  the  proper  order,  and  the  entire  crowd 
— men,  women,  and  children,  saints  and  sinner — faced  the 
music  splendidly.  They  rose  to  their  feet  as  if  moved  by  one 
impulse ;  and  the  banner  was  waved  in  the  name  of  the  Lord 
of  Hosts.  Such  a  glorious  time  I  have  seldom  witnessed  in 
all  my  roving  life  of  more  than  thirty  years  from  Montgom- 
ery to  Fayetteville.  O,  my  soul !  praise  the  Lord  for  that 
immortal  night  in  Spartanburg.  The  meeting  was  kept  up 
till  near  twelve  o'clock ;  and  I  spent  nearly  a  fortnight,  em- 
bracing two  Sundays,  iii  the  place. 

So  I  had  to  preach  more  than  the  two  sermons  which  I 
had  promised  Brother  Durant ;  and  he  told  me  afterwards 
that  he  expected  it  to  turn  out  just  as  it  did ;  and  that  from 
the  day  I  left  him,  till  he  heard  from  me,  he  prayed  much 
oftener  for  me  than  he  had  ever  done  in  the  same  length  of 
time  before.  When  I  left,  the  meeting  was  still  going  on. 
It  is  fifteen  years  since  the  time  of  which  I  have  been 
telling  you ;  but  I  was  there  again  recently,  of  which  visit  I 
expect  to  tell  you  in  another  number. 


LEAF  THE  THIETY-FIFTH. 

HOW    THE    PROTRACTED.    MEETING     AT     G "WAS    BROKEN    UP, 

WHEN    THE    GHOST    SHOOK   HIS    GORY   LOCKS. 

Many  years  ago,  I  was  at  a  camp-meeting  on  the  Cooper 
Biver  circuit,  with  Brother  C.  B.,  the  presiding  elder  of  the 
District,  and  Brothers  M.  and  S.,  and  several  others.  I  re- 
member but  very  little  about  .the  meeting;  but  I  will  say 
that  I  was  treated  with  the  same  kindness  and  respect  by 
Brother  B.  that  I  have  always  enjoyed  ever  since  I  have 
had  the  pleasure  of  knowing  him.  I  have  also  known  Bro- 
thers M.  and  S.  for  many  years,  and  I  respect  and  love  them 
much.  When  absent  from  them,  if  I  should  be  asked  which 
of  the  two  I  would  rather  see,  I  would  say,  Brother  M. ;  but 
if  I  was  ocoino;  to  leave  them  both  at  the  same  time,  I  would 
rather  shake  hands  with  Brother  S.  last,  for  I  expect  I  could 
feel  his  grasp  the  longest.  If  I  was  sick  and  in  trouble,  and 
both  the  true  friends  were  present,  I  would  wish  Brother  M. 
to  pray  for  me  first,  and  then  Brother  S.  If  I  wanted  a  ser- 
mon to  be  preached  particularly  for  the  church.  Brother  M. 
should  do  it,  of  course  ;  but  if  I  desired  a  great  effort  to  be 
made  to  reach  the  hardened  sinner's  heart,  and  if  there  was 
a  score  of  preachers  present,  I  would  choose  Brother  S.,  and 
request  him  to  preach  the  same  sermon  that  he  did  at 
Centre  camp-ground,  ^orth  Carolina,  when  I  was  present. 

Well,  friends,  we  all  met  at  the  stand  on  Monday  morning 
for  the  last  public  service.  A  chapter  was  read,  a  hymn 
sung,  a  prayer  offered,  a  benediction  pronounced,  and  we 
were  dismissed.  Brethren  M.  and  S.,  and,  I  think,  another, 
whose  name  is  forgotten,  and  myself,  left  together ;  and  how 
pleasantly  the  hours  passed  by,  with  those  dear  brothers  in 
Christ,  while  I  could  not  tell  which  I  liked  best — Brother 
M.'s  hearty  laugh,  or  Brother  S.'s  grave  smile.  The  houses 
and  trees  seemed  to  fly  by  us,  as  we  hastened  onward  to  the 

village  of  G- ,  where  a  kind  welcome  awaited  us.     I  have 

often  thought,  if  I  had  known  what  was  before  me  for  the 


238  STRAY   LEAVES. 

evening,  I  never  could  have  enjoyed  myself  as  I  did.  But  so 
it  was — the  Strange  Preacher,  so  famous  for  the  wild  wan- 
derings of  his  fancy,  never  once  thought  of  what  awaited 
him.  I  have  often  thought,  what  a  blessing  it  is,  that  we  do 
not  know  what  awaits  us  in  the  swiftly  coming  future ;  for  if 
we  did,  how  many  of  us  would  drink  the  cup  of  sorrow  twice, 
when  once  is  more  than  we  can  bear  aright,  without  the 
help  of  Heaven.  So  it  was  a 'good  thing  for  the  Strange 
Preacher,  that  he  did  not  know  what  was  in  store  for  him ; 
or  he  never  could  have  enjoyed  himself  so  much  that  even- 
ing. ]N'ot  even  M.'s  laugh,  or  S.'s  grave  smile,  could  have 
made  him  forget  the  coming  trouble. 

But,  as  I  have  said,  we  got  to  the  village  at  last,  and  sister 
S.  met  me  with  the  same  calm  smile  with  which  she  had 

3'ears  before  welcomed  me  with  in  the  village  of  B ,  and 

I  soon  felt  at  home  in  her  friendly  presence. 

After  we  had  rested  and  refreshed  ourselves  a  little,  and 
when  I  was  anticipating  a  very  pleasant  time,  a  note  was 
presented  to  Brother  M.,  from  a  preacher  of  another  deno- 
mination, who  had  been  for  several  da5^s  carrying  on  a  pro- 
tracted meeting  in  the  place.  The  writer  said,  he  understood 
that  there  were  several  Methodist  ministers  in  the  village, 
and  he  requested  one  of  them  to  preach  for  him  that  night ; 
that  he  would  take  no  excuse,  for  out  of  so  many,  he  hoped 
there  was  one  who  would  grant  his  request.  Brother  M. 
sent  word  back  that  one  of  us  would  do  so. 

Now,  you  must  know,  that  during  the  meeting  then  going 
on,  it  had  been  declared  boldly  from  the  pulpit,  '*  that  once 
a  man  had  been  converted — that  once  he  had  become  a  child 
of  the  Lord — never  mind  how  great  a  sin  he  might  commit, 
he  was  still  in  the  favor  of  the  Lord,  and  that  if  even  he 
should  die  without  repenting  of  it,  he  would  nevertheless  be 
sure  to  go  to  heaven — that  he  could  not  be  lost."  The 
preacher  made  mention  of  David's  great  sin ;  and  said  he 
w^as  sure  of  heaven,  if  he  had  died  without  repentance— for 
having  been  once  a  child  of  the  Lord,  he  could  not  have  been 
lost.  Some  one  who  heard  it,  told  us  there  was  no  mis- 
take about  this  having  been  said  ;  upon  which  Brothers  M. 
and  S.  made  up  their  minds  that  no  one  present  should 


PRESSED   INTO   SERVICE.  239 

preach  the  requested  sermon,  happen  what  might,  but  the 
Wandering  Arab ;  and  that  he  should  not  even  be  permitted 
to  choose  his  own  subject.  I  saw  at  once  what  was  before 
me,  and  determined  to  escape  if  possible — to  leave  no  stone 
unturned  to  save  myself  from  what  I  saw  staring  me  full  in 
the  face.  So  I  begged  very  hard  for  some  one  else  to  fill  the 
appointment.  I  told  my  two  brethren  it  would  do  so  much 
better  for  one  of  them  to  preach ;  for  I  had  several  relatives 
and  friends  who  were  members  of  that  church,  and  for  their 
sake,  if  no  other,  I  would  rather  not  do  so.  But  it  was  all 
in  vain.  I  took  them  aside,  one  at  a  time,  and  entreated 
them,  for  the  sake  of  the  pleasant  memories  of  "  auld  lang 
syne,"  to  let  me  off;  but  it  would  not  do — -they  remained 
immovable.  So  1  said,  if  I  must  preach,  I  thought  several 
other  subjects  would  suit  much  better—either  "Moses  to 
Hobab,"  or  "  I  would  not  live  alway,"  or  "  My  feet  shall 
stand  within  thy  gates,  O,  Jerusalem ! "  But  they  said,  no- 
thing would  suit  so  well  as,  "  Solomon,  my  son ; "  that  the 
ghost  must  shake  his  gory  locks.  I  told  them  I  had  never 
been  so  situated  before,  and  had  no  heart  to  face  the  music  ; 
and  that  the  War  Preacher  never  would  return  from  that 
field,  with  his  flag  waving  fearlessly,  and  his  lance  held 
strongly  in  the  rest,  as  I  knew  they  wished  him  to  do.  But 
they  would  not  yield.  They  said  none  but  the  Strange 
Preacher  should  fill  the  api^ointment,  and  his  subject- should 
be  chosen  for  him,  and  that  he  should  reserve  his  whole 
strength  for  the  ''  casting  away  for  ever."  Alas  for  me  !  I 
could  not  prevail  with  my  friends.  So  I  said  that  I  had 
always  found  sister  S.  kind  to  me,  and  I  would  go  and  ask 
her  to  save  me.  I  told  her  of  my  trouble,  and  entreated  her 
to  help  me.  I  told  her,  I  thought  "  the  passage  of  the  Jor- 
dan by  the  children  of  Israel,"  much  more  suitable — that  I 

remembered  how  she  enjoyed  it  that  night  at  B ;  and 

that  I  knew,  as  Brother  S.  thought  so  much  of  her,  he  would 
give  up  if  she  asked  him.  But  she  said,  that  in  her  opinion, 
there  was  nothing,  from  Genesis  to  Revelation,  that  would 
do  so  well  as  "  Solomon,  my  son."  I  felt  that  I  was  doomed 
—-that  it  was  all  over  with  me.  But  I  resolved  to  make 
another  effort ;  so  I  went  back  to  my  brethren,  and  urged 


240  STRAY   LEAVES. 

and  entreated  them;  but  all  in  vain.  I  promised  to  come  to 
any  of  their  meetings,  and  to  stay  as  long  as  they  wished, 
and  to  let  them  choose  all  the  subjects  for  me ;  but  they 
would  not  yield.  S.  no  longer  smiled  gravely,  but  seemed 
more  firm  than  ever.  He  recalled  to  my  mind  that  scene  iti 
the  "  Lady  of  the  Lake,"  where  the  brave  knight,  surrounded 
by  his  foes,  placed  his  back  against  a  rock,  and  then,  draw- 
ing his  sword,  said,  "  This  rock  shall  fly  as  soon  as  I."  I 
was  told  by  both  of  my  friends,  that  they  would  never  think 
as  much  of  me  as  they  did  before,  if  I  did  not  preach  from 
"Solomon,  my  son,"  and  make  the  ghost  shake  awfully  his 
gory  locks,  and  reserve  my  strength  for  the  "  casting  off  for- 
ever." Before  yielding  finally  to  his  fate,  the  Strange 
Preacher  went  to  sister  S.  once  more  ;  and  the  gentle  lady 
would  have  come  to  his  rescue  this  time,  but  M.  and  S.  had 
been  there  already  before  him.  He  told  her,  he  never  felt  so 
little  like  preaching  as  he  did  then ;  that  the  fame,  small  as 
it  was,  that  he  had  won  in  many  a  desperate  battle,  would 
all  be  lost  that  night ;  for  that  he  had  no  heart,  no  strength, 
to  break  a  lance  in  such  a  field  as  was  before  him.  She  re- 
plied, that  she  was  very  sorry  for  him,  but  he  must  face  the 
fire ;  that  she  would  pray  for  him  more  than  ever ;  and  that 
M.  and  S.  had  set  their  hearts  upon  it,  and  would  remember 
him  before  the  throne  of  grace — that  the  ghost  must  walk 
the  stage  and  shake  his  gory  locks. 

And  so  we  started  to  the  place  of  appointment.  The  sweet 
Swan  of  Avon  tells  us  that  "  Time  travels  with  different  de- 
grees of  speed  with  different  persons ;  that  he  walks  with 
some,  and  trots  with  others ;  that  he  ambles  with  some,  and 
gallops  with  others ;  and  that  with  some  he  even  stands 
still."  But  I  think  he  must  have  moved  as  fast  as  "  the 
weaver's  shuttle,"  with  the  Wandering  Arab  to  the  place  of 
trial.  If  he  walked  by  the  side  of  M.  and  S.,  he  was  told  to 
remember  "  Solomon,  my  son ; "  and  the  Strange  Preacher 
wished  4iimself  far  on  the  other  side  of  the  Savannah  river, 

or  anywhere  else  but  in  the  village  of  G- .     And  if  he 

passed  to  the  side  of  sister  S.,  he  was  told  not  to  forget  the 
"  casting  away  forever,"  and  she  would  not  be  so  hard  to 
move  the  next  time  he  wished  to  get  off  from  preaching. 


241 

We  arrived  at  the  place  of  worship,  which  was  at  a  private 
house.  It  would  have  been  a  small  turn-out  for  a  church, 
but  was  a  very  good  one  for  the  place.  The  preacher  who 
wrote  the  note  met  us  very  friendly ;  but  I  suspect,  if  he 
had  only  known  what  was  to  come,  that  invitation  would 
not  have  been  sent.  But  the  other  minister,  who  had  made 
the  declaration  we  had  been  told  of,  seemed  a  little  distant ; 
and  I  guess,  if  he  had  foreseen  what  was  to  come,  he  would 
have  been  found  missing.  I  had  to  stand  very  near  him, 
and  could  almost  have  touched  him  with  my  hand.  I  gave 
one  last  glance  at  my  friends — there  was  no  hope  left.  And 
feeling  like  the  man  who  had  all  the  bridges  burned  behind 
him,  and  knowing  there  was  no  way  of  retreat,  I  resolved  at 
last  to  go  the  whole  figure,  hoping  I  might  never  see  the 

village  of  G- again  in  this  unfriendly  world,  if  I  had  to 

be  so  unpleasantly  situated. 

Song  and  prayer  were  over,  and  the  text  was  read  out — it 
Was,  "  Solomon,  my  son."  The  Strange  Preacher  then  looked 
at  M.,  and  the  glance  which  was  returned  said  plainly, 
"  that's  right,  face  the  music ; "  and  S.'s  serious  face  said 
plainly,  "do  not  forget  the  gory  locks;"  while  the  expressive 
countenance  of  sister  S.  said,  "  I  am  praying  for  you,  but  re- 
member the  '  casting  off  forever.'  "  Many  of  you,  my  friends 
have  often  heard  me  on  that  subject.  But  on  that  occasion 
I  felt  very  ditferently  from  what  I  have  done,  as  often  as  I 
have  tried  to  preach  from  it.  Once,  for  a  moment,  when  ex- 
cited by  what  I  was  speaking  about,  I  almost  forgot  my  sur- 
roundings. But  on  I  went,  drawing  still  nearer  to  the  much 
dreaded  passage ;  and  sometimes,  during  the  short  pauses  I 
made,  I  almost  made  up  my  mind  to  take  "  French  leave"  of 
those  most  dreaded  points  ;  but  I  knew  if  I  did,  my  friends 
would  be  done  with  me  forever. 

Still  I  Went  on,  putting  off  the  great  trouble  as  long  as 
possible;  but.  at  last  the  much-feared  Rubicon  rose  before 
me,  overflowing  both  banks.  I  paused — I  felt  more  than 
tongue  could  tell — I  turned  once  more  to  my  friends,  to  see 
if  there  was  any  pity  for  me  in  their  eyes.  Alas  !  there  was 
none.  And  I  at  once  made  up  my  mind  to  do  or  die.  I 
looked  to  Heaven  for  help,  and  unfurled  my  broad  banner  to 


242  STRAY    I.EAVES. 

the  breeze ;  and  I  felt  like  saying,  *'  Onee  more,  my  friends, 
to  the  breach,  once  more."  I  drew  my  BamascuH  bhide,  and 
threw  away  the  scabbard ;  I  spurred  my  gallant  charger  on, 
and  swam  the  Rubicon  which  was  overflowing  both  banks. 
And  whvjn  I  stood  once  more  upon  the  tii"n\  earth,  I  said  to 
myself,  "  Farewell  world !  for  with  the  help  of  the  Lord,  I 
will  go  the  whole  figure  once  in  my  life,  if  never  before.  I 
will  raise  the  ghost,  and  he  shall  shake  his  gory  locks  ;  and 
I  will  spread  myself  on  the  '  casting  away  forever,'  so  that 
all  this  congregation,  both  saints  and  sinners,  will  remember 

the  Strange  Preacher  in  the  village  of  G- to  their  last 

hour."  And  I  paused  a  moment,  to  gather  all  my  strength 
for  what  was  to  come, 

I  painted  the  king  of  Israel  on  his  death  bod,  with  the 
great  men  of  his  kingdom  around  him,  and  as,  perhaps,  he 
thus  slowly  and  seriously  expressed  himself:  "My  dear  son, 
you  will  soon  fill  my  throne ;  remember  what  I  now  say  to 
you.  That  sad  day  of  which  I  am  going  to  speak,  was  be- 
fore you  were  born,  my  son.  I  loved  the  Lord,  I  was  fully 
bound  for  heaven  ;  for  I  was  a  man  after  the  Lord's  own 
heart.  One  day,  in  early  morn,  I  offered  prayer  to  the  Holy 
One  of  Israel,  with  as  much  faith  and  earnestness  as  ever ; 
and  if  I  had  died  then,  I  would  have  gone  safe  home  to 
glory.  But  before  the  sun  had  gone  down,  I  had  sinned — I 
was  guilty  of  a  great  crime,  and  deserved  death  by  the  law. 
If  I  had  died  that  night,  without  repentance,  I  would  have 
gone  to  hell.  O  !  my  son,  what  a  fall  was  that !  But  that 
was  not  all.  I  sinned  still  more,  in  the  sight  of  earth  and 
heaven.  I  caused  the  death  of  a  brave  man — the  noble 
Uriah.  If  it  had  not  been  for  me,  my  son,  that  man  might 
have  been  now  standing  with  those  heroes  who  are  present, 
and  w^hose  names  will  never  die.  If  I  had  died  then,  my 
son,  without  repentance,  if  there  is  a  hell  for  the  wicked,  I 
would  have  found  it.  O !  Solomon,  never  forget  wiiat  I  now 
tell  you.  If  you  forsake  the  Lord,  and  do  not  return  to  him, 
he  will  cast  you  off  for  ever.  Those  persons  who  have  never 
professed  to  love  the  Lord,  cannot  forsake  him ;  for  they 
have  never  belonged  to  him.  When  I  had  thus  so  greatly 
sinned,  if  I  had  then  died  without  repentance,  I  would  have 


DAVID   TO   SOLOMON.  243 

been  eternally  lost,  and  I  never  would  have  reached  the 
blessed  Canaan  above — where  the  pious  Jews  of  all  ages 
have  gone — where  the  sainted  Samuel  and  my  much-loved 
Jonathan  are  now  happy  for  ever.  One  day,  the  prophet 
Nathan  came  to  me  with  a  message  from  the  Lord ;  he  told 
me  there  was  a  poor  man,  who  had  only  one  lamb,  that  lay 
in  his  bosom,  and  ate  at  his  table,  and  was  to  him  as  a  child ; 
and  that  there  was  a  rich  man,  who  had  large  flocks ;  *  and  a 
traveller  stopped  all  night  with  him,  and  he  took  the  only 
lamb  from  the  poor  man,  and  dressed  it  up  for  the  wayfaring 
man.  And  I  at  once  said,  he  should  die.  IS'athan  said,  I 
was  the  man,  and  charged  me  with  this  great  sin.  An  awful 
conviction  at  once  possessed  my  soul ;  and  when  the  mox'ning 
came,  I  expected  to  be  in  hell  before  night;  and  when  the 
night  came,  I  was  afraid  to  go  to  sleep,  lest  I  should  awake 
in  the  pit.  And  I  felt  sometimes  almost  tempted  to  take  my 
own  life ;  but  I  knew  if  I  did,  I  would  only  the  sooner  be 
cast  ofl'  forever.  And  then,  when  worn  out  with  watching 
I  dropped  to  sleep,  it  was  to  dream  of  the  noble  Uriah,  and 
cruel  murder.  And  often,  when  I  was  awake  in  the  still 
.  hour  of  midnight,  the  ghost  of  Uriah  would  stand  before  me 
in  his  bloody  robe,  with  his  death^wound  in  his  breast,  and 
his  dark  hair  all  clotted  with  blood,  and  he  would  shake  his 
gory  locks  at  me,  and  say,  '  You  murdered  me,  and  you  will, 
without  repentance,  burn  forever  in  hell.'  And  feeKng  more 
than  tongue  can  ever  tell,  I  would  at  times  reply  to  the  spirit, 
as  he  stalked  to  and  fro,  with  his  noiseless  steps,  before  my 
couch—'  How  can  you  say  I  did  it  ?  You  fell  in  battle,  by 
the  hands  of  the  children  of  Ammon  ! '  But  he  said,  '  You 
told  Joab  to  place  me  there,  and  when  the  fight  began,  to 
leave  me  alone.  I  will  shake  my  gory  locks  at  you,  for  you 
did  it ;  and  without  repentance,  you  will  burn  in  hell  for^ 
ever.'  The  spirit  would  at  times  come  very  close  to  me— 
within  arm's  length,'and  say,  'You  remember  the  time  when 
you  sent  to  our  camp,  to  our  Captain  Joab,  to  send  me  to 
you;  and  you  gave  me  to  eat  from  your  own  table;  and 
when  the  next  morning,  you  found  out  I  had  not  o-one  to 
my  house,  you  asked  me  why  I  did  not  go  ? '  And  then,  my 
son,  the  ghost  seemed  to  come  so  near,  that  his  bloody  robe 


244  STRAY    LEAVES. 

almost  touched  me.  And  he  asked  me  if  I  had  forgotten  his 
repl}' — that  he  knew  I  never  would  for<^et  it.  And  the  spirit 
said,  '  I  told  you  that  the  host  of  the  Lord,  and  my  lord 
.Toab  were  in  the  open  field ;  and  you  sent  me  back  to  the 
camp  with  my  death-warrant  in  my  pocket.  I  was  told 
where  to  stand.  The  enemy  rushed  out,  and  I  was  left 
alone.  I  will  shake  my  gory  locks  at  you,  for  you  caused 
my  death ;  and  without  repentance,  you  will  burn  in  hell  for- 
ever.' " 

Much  more  was  said ;  but  I  must  hasten  to  the  close.  The 
ghost  played  well  his  part :  he  walked  the  stage,  shaking 
awfully  his  gory  locks.  The  preacher  did  his  best  on  the 
"  casting  away  forever."  And  before  he  sat  down,  he  spoke 
as  he  always  does  while  preaching  from  that  text :  he  dwelt 
upon  King  David's  repentance,  and  his  restoration  to  the 
favor  of  the  Lord ;  and  that  perhaps  he  said  to  Solomon, 
with  a  smile  of  heaven  upon  his  dying  face,  "  My  son,  when- 
ever you  read  that  Psalm  which  has  these  words  in  it — 'As 
far  as  the  east  is  from  the  west,  so  far  has  the  Lord  removed 
my  sins  and  my  transgressions  from  me,'  remember  that  I 
then  had  repented,  and  the  Lord  had  forgiven  my  sins,  and 
restored  me  to  his  favor  once  more."  And  the  king  of  Israel 
was  represented  as  taking  his  departure  from  earth,  escorted 
by  holy  angels,  to  Abraham's  bosom. 

The  parson,  before  sitting  down,  turned  once  more,  and 
looked  at  his  friends.  The  expressive  glance  which  M.  and 
S.  gave  him,  seemed  to  say,  "  Your  banner  hung  on  the 
outer  wall  to-night ;  and  we  will  let  you  choose  your  own 
subject  the  next  time."  He  then  turned  to  sister  S.  The 
same  smile  was  on  her  face  that  he  had  seen  there  years  be- 
fore, at  Bennettsville,  when  herself  and  husband,  by  their 
very  kind  greeting,  made  him  so  soon  forget  his  long,  weary 
ride  from  Fayetteville.  The  last  hymn  was  sung,  and  the 
last  prayer  offered  to  the  throne  of  grace ;  the  benediction 

was  pronounced,  and  the  protracted  meeting  at  G was 

closed. 


LEAF  THE  THIETY-SIXTH. 

TW©   VISITS    TO    GEORGETOWN    BY   THE    STRANGE   PREACHER. 

Some  fifteen  years  ago,  I  went  on  my  first  visit  to  Geoi'ge- 
town,  to  attend  our  Conference,  with  my  dear  friend,  Bro- 
ther L.  B.  Yarn,  who  was  ordained  there.  It  was  my  first 
trip  on  a  steamboat,  and  for  a  while  I  enjoyed  it  very  much. 
The  ocean  scenery  was  novel  and  interesting  to  me,  until  I 
became  sea-sick,  w^hen  all  pleasant  feelings  at  once  left  me, 
and  I  was  cast  down  and  discouraged,  and  wished  myself  at 
home. 

I  had  read  so  much  of  Georgetown  during  the  days  of 
Marion  and  Horry,  that  I  had  often  wished  to  see  the  time- 
honored  place.  When  we  got  there,  we  were  met  by  a 
crowd  on  the  wharf,  among  them  many  of  the  preachers ; 
and  I  was  introduced  to  a  number  of  persons.  My  sea-sick- 
ness had  not  entirely  left  me.  Brother  Yarn  and  myself  had 
our  places  allotted  to  us,  where  we  were  pleasantly  situated, 
and  treated  kindly ;  but  it  was  rather  far  to  walk  to  Con- 
ference. The  next  morning  we  were  in  the  assembly  of 
preachers.  There  were  over  a  hundred  present,  and  Bishop 
Andrew  presided.  He  was  the  right  man  in  the  right  place. 
I  saw  many  familiar  faces — some  of  whom  smiled  at  me, 
some  nodded,  and  others  came  over  and  shook  hands.  The 
Conference  at  times  seemed  to  be  attending  very  closely  to 
the  business  before  it ;  and  at  times  something  rather  serious 
would  be  brought  up,  and  then  all  but  the  members  were 
excluded — which  was  rather  unpleasant  to  me  at  first,  but 
after  a  while  I  became  accustomed  to  it.  I  saw  several  of 
the  chief  men  of  the  Conference — men  who  had  made  their 
mark  in  the  world,  and  whose  names  were  known  to  fame. 
I  saw  some  venerable  men,  whom  the  church  loved  much, 
and  whom  the  world  respected.  They  were  known  and  read 
of  all  men,  and  their  record  was  on  high.  I  noticed  some 
one  speaking  to  the  presiding  elder  of  the  District,  Brother 
\y.,  who  rose  up  and  said,  he  understood  that  Brother  B.,  of 


246  STRAY    LEAVES. 

the  AValtcrboro  circuit,  was  in  the  room,  and  he  hoped  he 
would  preach  in  such  a  brother's  place,  who  would  not  bo 
able  to  till  his  appointment.  But  I  had  not  yet  gotten  over 
my  sea-sickness,  and  was  in  the  act  of  rising  to  ask  to  be 
excused,  when  Bishop  Andrew  remarked,  that  he  understood 
Brother  B.  was  always  reacly ;  and  I  felt  that  there  was  no 
escape  for  me.  I  was  in  a  bad  state  for  preaching ;  but  I 
took  something  to  relieve  me,  and  tried  to  do  as  well  as  I 
could ;  and  trust  there  was  some  good  done.  Brother  Yarn 
concluded  the  services  for  me.  I  think  I  learned  something 
in  that  Conference,  for  those  preachers  dealt  very  plainly 
with  each  other ;  and  if  a  brother  needed  reproof,  he  got  it 
well  put  on,  you  may  depend  on  it.  I  witnessed  all  the  ser- 
vices of  the  holy  Sabbath ;  and  I  hope  the  Lord  owned  and 
blessed  that  Conference  Sunday  in  Greorgetown.  Bishop 
Andrew  gave  us  a  very  strong,  forcible,  and  impressive  ser- 
mon, which  was  after  the  fashion  of  sermons  to  which  I  love 
to  listen.  The  ordination  service  was  quite  solemn  to  me, 
and  I  trust  was  so  to  all  present. 

The  last  night  came,  and  we  were  in  the  church  to  hear 
the  appointments  read — which  I  enjoyed  very  much.  The 
house  was  crowded,  every  place  seemed  filled  ;  but  the  crowd 
was  quiet ;  and  the  venerable  Bishop  rose,  and  gave  his  last 
advice  to  that  body  of  ministers  before  reading  out  the  ap- 
pointments. There  was  a  short  pause  before  the  names  were 
called  out.  Let  us  look  around  a  little.  What  a  picture ! 
How  eager,  how  wistful  some  of  those  preachers  looked ! 
Several  of  them  were  on  very  pleasant  circuits  the  past  year, 
and  were  hoping  to  be  sent  back  to  the  same  place.  Perhaps 
the  last  thing  some  wife  said  to  her  husband  before  he  left 
was,  "  Tell  the  Bishop,  I  say,  '  please  send  you  back,  and  I 
will  pray  for  him  more  than  ever.' "  There  was  another 
one  who  expected  to  be  sent  back;  and  how  sorry  he  would 
feel  if  he  knew  that  his  presiding  elder  had  been  told  by  the 
stewards,  that  they  did  not  wish  that  brother  to  be  sent 
back;  so  he  was  not  returned.  There  was  another  preacher 
who  had  been  two  years  on  the  same  circuit,  in  the  up- 
country,  and  he  was  wishing  to  be  sent  to  another  one  near 
by ;  and  I  suspect  he  was  quite  surprised  when  he  found  he 


READING   OUT   THE   APPOINTMENTS.  247 

would  have  to  go  to  the  sea-shore.  And  there  was  a  pre- 
siding elder,  Avho  had  been  two  years  at  work  on  one  dis- 
trict, and  was  well  pleased ;  but  the  general  Avish  was  that 
he  might  be  changed;  snd  I  guess  he  was  somewhat  sur- 
prised when  he  heard  that  he  was  to  go  to  some  rough  cir- 
cuit in  the  up-country.  Several  ladies  were  present,  with 
their  husbands,  fathers,  and  brothers,  who  were  also  inter- 
ested in  the  reading  of  the  appointments.  You  could  see 
some  of  the  preachers  change  countenance :  their  faces  were 
first  pale,  atd  then  flushed;  and  then  there  were  others  who 
seemed  perfectly  indifferent.  They  had  become  accustomed 
to  change,  and  did  not  mmd  it  much.  But  some  were  feeling 
more  than  they  were  willing  to  confess,  and  that  indifference 
was  only  assumed.  Did  you  notice  that  brother  Avho  was 
looking  so  earnestly  at  the  Bishop  ?  He  had  an  interview 
with  him  the  day  before,  praying  to  be  returned  to  the  same 
circuit.  He,  however,  dropped  his  head  after  a  while,  and  I 
saw  him  wiping  his  eyes ;  for  he  saw  in  the  speaking  glance 
of  the  venerable  man  that  his  request  could  not  be  granted. 
Were  you  not  sorry  for  him  ?     The  Strange  Preacher  was. 

This  is  always  the  most  interesting  part  of  the  Conference 
to  me.  The  appointments  were  read  out  slowly  and  dis- 
tinctly, beginning  with  Charleston ;  and  as  they  were  read 
out,  several  persons  were  busily  employed  in  recording 
them.  Did  you  notice  those  pieces  of  paper  which  were 
passed  about  so  quickly  ?  Those  were  the  '-  plans"  of  the 
different  circuits ;  but  you  could  see  more  than  one  man 
holding  on  to  the  plan  he  had  before.  These  were  sent  back 
to  the  same  work.  And  did  you  notice  how  reluctantly  one 
•man  gave  up  his  paper?  His  whole  heart  was  fixed  on 
going  back  to  the  same  place,  but  how  sadly  did  he  return 
home ;  for  he  dreaded  to  break  the  news  to  the  mother  of 
his  little  boy ;  and  he  imagined  he  could  already  see  the 
tears  in  her  eyes,  when  she  was  told  they  had  to  move,  and 
go  to  a  place  where  the  preacher,  after  working  last  year 
very  hard,  got  a  poor  support — hardly  enough  to  keep  soul 
and  body  together.  And  I  would  not  be  surprised  if  he  took 
more  than  a  day  longer  to  get  home,  than  he  did  to  come 
down  to  Conference ;   and  I  suspect,  when  he  got  nearly 


248  STRAY    LEAVES. 

home,  that  he  called  on  the  Lord  for  strength  and  grace  to 
take  up  the  cross  like  a  Christian  hero.  If  I  had  been  in  his 
place,  I  think  I  would  have  stopped  at  that  good  class-lead- 
er's house,  who  lived,  near  the  village,  and  have  begged  him 
to  break  the  news  to  my  wife,  while  I  was  putting  up  my 
horse,  and  providing  for  him  after  his  long  drive. 

The  Strange  Preacher  felt  the  tears  falling  fast  from  his 
eyes,  as  he  bowed  his  head,  and  said  to  himself,  "that  is  one 
reason  why  I  like  my  roving  life  the  best ;  for  I  can  go 
where  I  please."  Did  you  notice  that  young  m%ister,  with 
a  very  expressive  face,  and  black  eyes,  and  hair  as  dark  as 
the  raven's  wing — how  he  suddenly  drew  back,  and  hid  him- 
self behind  some  one  who  was  standing  near  him  ?  He  had 
been  for  some  time  engaged  to  the  lady  of  his  heart ;  but  the 
understanding  between  him  and  her  parents  was,  that  if  he 
was  sent  back  to  the  same  work,  they  might  be  married  soon 
after  his  return ;  but  if  he  had  to  go  to  a  distant  part  of  the 
Conference  field,  he  would  have  to  wait  another  year.  And 
he  was  sent  to  a  distant  part  of  the  State.  Were  you  not 
sorry  for  him?  And  did  you  not  notice  how  the  good 
Bishop's  voice  trembled,  when  he  read  out  that  appoint- 
ment ?  He  was  well  acquainted  with  those  young  people, 
and  sympathized  with  them. 

And  did  you  hear  that  audible  sigh  which  came  from  those 
ladies  who  were  sitting  near  the  pulpit  ?  It  came  from  the 
troubled  heart  of  an  aged  mother — a  widow,  whose  only 
child,  a  young  minister  of  much  promise,  but  feeble  health, 
was  sent  to  a  sickly  part  of  the  Conference.  He  was  her 
only  support  this  side  of  heaven ;  and  she  feared  he  would 
be  in  his  grave  before  the  end  of  the  year.  I  hope  more 
than  one  prayed  to  God  to  spare  that  mother's  only  stay  on 
earth. 

The  appointments  had  all  been  read,  and  the  benediction 
pronounced,  and  Conference  closed;  and  I  returned  safely 
home. 

A  few  months  afterwards,  at  the  request  of  Brother  James 
Stacy,  I  returned  to  Georgetown.  I  took  the  train  at  Bam- 
berg, and  soon  reached  Charleston,  where  I  took  the  boat, 
and  by  the  mercy  of  the  Lord,  arrived  safely  at  the  place, 


THE   DEAF   GENTLEMAN.    .  249 

where  Brother  S.  met  me  with  a  kindly  greeting,  and  we 
began  the  meeting.  We  toiled  on,  praying  and  looking  for 
the  salvation  of  Israel;  we  pleaded  the  promises  of  the  holy 
Book ;  and  implored  the  Lord  to  visit  his  earthly  Zion  in 
that  town.  We  preached  and  labored  on,  trying  "  to  look  to 
the  hills  from  whence  cometh  our  help." 

I  spent  many  happy,  heaven-blessed  hours  with  Brother 
S.,  Dr.  W.,  and  other  dear  friends  in  that  place.  I  saw  much 
more  of  Dr.  W.  during  my  second  visit  than  I  did  at  my 
first,  and  I  was  quite  pleased  with  him — -he  was  so  courteous 
and  kind,  and  a  Christian  man  in  every  respect,  and  his 
family  too,  was  very  interesting.  I  wish  the  whole  world 
w^as  filled  with  such  families ;  for  then  the  Saviour's  reign 
would  be  universal.  But  our  much  respected  brother  has 
been  for  years  past  at  rest  in  the  green  fields  of  Eden — 
"  where  friends  shall  meet  again  who  have  loved." 

The  meeting  grew  more  interesting ;  the  Lord  was  on  the 
giving  hand,  and  the  church  was  rousing  herself  up.  Zion 
was  dressed  in  her  beautiful  garments.  We  had  good  con- 
gregations ;  and  serious  impressions  were  made  on  the  hearts 
of  several  present.  The  preached  word  had  not  been  in 
vain ;  for  the  Lord's  will  was  accomplished,  and  his  work 
revived. 

I  must  now  tell  you  of  something  which  occurred  during 
the  meeting,  which  was  not  very  pleasant  to  the  Strange 
Preacher ;  and  between  ourselves,  I  think  that  is  the  reason 
why  I  have  been  so  pressed  |not  to  leave  Georgetown  out, 
while  writing  these  "  Stray  Leaves." 

One  memorable  night  of  the  meeting,  some  of  the  sisters 
were  singing  a  song,  which  the  Strange  Preacher  enjoyed 
very  much,  and  he  requested  that  it  might  be  sung  over  again. 
He  was  much  strengthened ;  his  hopes  were  high,  and  his 
banner  was  on  the  outer  wall.  The  Holy  Spirit  blessed  the 
word,  and  a  good  impression  seemed  to  prevail.  Some  of 
the  members  were  very  happy,  and  the  mourners  were  seek- 
ing the  salvation  of  their  souls.  Some  one  began  one  of  the 
parson's  much-loved  songs,  and  he  was  mounted  on  his  gal- 
lant steed,  with  his  flag  waving  bravely.  He  passed  through 
the  throng,  and  cried  out,  "  Farewell  world ! "  He  passed 
16 


250  STRAY    LEAVES. 

Oil,  exulting  that  the  Lord  waS  in  his  holy  temple,  and  the 
flag  of  Calvary  waving  over  the  hosts  of  Israel.  The  Strange 
Preacher  felt  more  and  still  more  the  excitement  of  the  hour. 
He  saw  a  gentleman  Avith  his  head  bent  slightly  forward, 
who  looked  as  if  seriously  impressed.  He  went  up  to  him, 
and  said  he  hoped  he  was  enjoying  the  meeting.  The  man 
was  hard  of  hearing,  and  held  his  hand  to  his  ear.  The 
preacher  spoke  a  little  louder,  but  still  without  being  under- 
stood ;  and  the  Wandering  Arab  wished  he  had  passed  on, 
without  saying  any  thing  to  him.  But  with  a  still  greater 
effort,  he  said,  ^'Friend,  do  you  wish  to  get  to  heaven?" 
*'  Yes,"  said  the  stranger,  "  but  not  in  the  steamboat  fashion 
you  Methodists  have  of  getting  there."  O!  my  soul,  how 
the  tide  of  feeling  suddenly  turned  the  other  way.  The  par- 
son copied  down  very  suddenly,  wishing  himself  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Alabama  river,  or  anywhere  else  in  this  trouble- 
some world,  at  that  moment. 

But  on  the  whole,  the  meeting  was  a  good  one.  I  remem- 
ber one  day  particularly,  I  told  my  dream  of  meeting  my 
mother  in  heaven,  which,  with  the  blessing  of  God,  made  a 
serious  impression  on  the  congregation.  It  was  to  me  the 
happiest  hour  of  the  meeting ;  for  the  "  voice  of  rejoicing 
was  heard  in  the  tabernacle  of  the  Most  High."  Brother 
Stacy  Avas  so  much  pleased  with  it,  that  he  had  it  written 
down  and  published  in  the  Advocate  the  second  time. 


LEAF  THE  THIRTY-SEVENTH. 

ENGLISH  chapel;  OR.  THE  WANDERING  ARAB,  TAKING  THE 
WATER  WITH  FEAR  AND  TREMBLING,  COMES  OUT  BETTER 
THAN  HE  EXPECTED,  WITH  THE  EXCEPTION  OF  PULLING 
HIS    BOOTS   OFF. 

English  Chapel  was  one  of  those  wayside  churches  of  the 
olden  time,  like  Shiloh  of  sanctified  remembrance.  It  stood 
not  far  from  the  public  road ;  plain,  modest,  and  unassuming 
in  its  appearance,  as  if  it  wished  to  shun  observation,  and 
preferred  a  small  band  of  faithful  w^orshij^pers  to  a  large 
congregation.  And  it  really  seemed  to  me,  that  a  small 
turn-out  suited  it  better  than  any  place  I  ever  saw — I  mean 
a  handful  of  whites ;  for  the  negroes  turned  out  in  crowds. 
And  I  have  seldom  heard  better  old-time  Methodist  singing 
than  we  had  there.  But  the  much-loved  old  church  has 
gone  the  way  of  all  the  living.  It  was  burned  down  several 
years  ago,  and  its  glory  has  departed ;  but  it  still  lives  en- 
shrined in  the  hearts  of  many  who  worshipped  there  in  by- 
gone days.  I  have  not  forgotten  the  modest,  humble,  little 
sanctuary,  with  the  friendly  trees  which  encircled  it  so 
lovingly;  for  I  have  often  enjoyed  myself  much  there  with 
the  kind  friends  of  the  neighborhood.  But  what  a  sad 
change  has  cruel  war,  with  its  train  of  woes,  brought  upon 
that  portion  of  our  Lord's  vineyard !  O  !  the  times,  how 
mournfully  have  they  changed,  since  first  I  raised  my  voice 
in  the  sacred  place,  calling  sinners  to  rej^entance. 

Before  I  say  any  more  about  the  meetings  at  the  chapel, 
let  me  tell  you  of  its  remarkable  class-leader.  I  have  seen 
and  heard  of  a  great  many  class-leaders,  but  I  have  never 
met,  or  heard  of  such  another  one  as  the  leader  of  that  little 
church.  Since  I  began  these  "  Stray  Leaves,"  while  I  have 
been  writing  of  many  persons  and  things,  I  have  scarcely 
yet  felt  my  utter  inability  to  do  justice  to  my  theme,  so 
much  as  now,  when  I  undertake  to  describe  the  leader  at 
English  Chapel.     I  have   never  yet  seen  just  such   a  man, 


252  STllAY    LEAVES. 

and  I  never  expect  to.  I  know  I  am  perhaps  the  most  sin- 
gular person  that  the  reader  has  ever  seen  or  heard  of.  One 
of  our  Bishops  told  me  once,  that  since  the  days  of  his  early- 
youth,  he  had  never  seen  but  one  preacher  who  reminded 
him  of  me.  But  the  leader  of  the  English  Chapel  is  alone  in 
his  glory.  He  was  a  man  fond  of  a  good  joke,  never  mind  at 
whose  expense ;  and  he  seemed  to  prefer  having  an  amusing 
story  to  tell  of  a  preacher,  or  a  pious  member  of  the  church, 
than  of  any  one  else ;  and  he  enjoyed  a  good  laugh  better  than 
almost  any  one  I  ever  saw.  He  also  enjoyed  a  joke  on  the 
"Wandering  Arab  very  much — it  was  quite  a  treat  to  him. 
But  he  was  also  a  warm  friend  of  the  preachers,  when  they 
needed  help,  and  was  very  generous  in  supporting  the  min- 
istry. His  house  and  his  heart  were  always  open  to  them ; 
and  he  enjoyed  a  good  meeting  very  much.  He  never  neg- 
lected his  private  or  family  duties ;  and  few  persons  listened 
with  more  pleasure  to  a  good  sermon.  He  lived  in  a  splen- 
did mansion,  in  fine  style,  with  every  comfort  around  him — 
was  fond  of  hunting — kept  fine  horses  and  hounds,  and  was 
a  capital  shot.  Such  is  a  very  imperfect  picture  of  the  leader 
at  this  chapel — a  man  of  a  kind  heart,  and  a  free  purse.  I 
always  respected  him  much,  and  regarded  him  as  a  true 
friend — though  often  dreading  him,  he  was  so  fond  of  a  joke. 
Long  live  the  leader  of  English  Chapel!  I  have  attended 
several  good  meetings  there,  at  all  of  which  my  much-res- 
pected brother  took  an  active  part.  The  Rev.  L.  B.  Yarn 
was  with  me  several  times,  laboring  as  he  always  does,  very 
faithfully. 

We  had  a  very  interesting  time  there  many  years  ago. 
There  was  a  gracious  season  of  rejoicing  from  the  Holy  One 
of  Israel ;  and  several  hardened  sinners  closed  in  with  the 
offers  of  mercy.  Some,  who  were  so  far  gone  in  the  ways  of 
transgression  that  they  seldom  attended  preaching,  were  so 
powerfully  wrought  upon  one  night,  that  they  had  to  leave 
the  house,  being  afraid  to  remain  longer.  And  there  was  a 
man,  whose  w4fe  w^as  a  member  of  our  church,  who  was  very 
wicked,  and  much  opposed  to  the  Methodists.  His  wife  Avas 
afraid  for  the  preachers  to  come  to  their  house.     But  at  last, 


A    FULL    CONFESSION.  253 

he  was  powerfully  awakened ;  and  was  converted,  and  be- 
came a  zealous  member  of  the  church. 

"But,"  says  one,  "  how  about  the  AYandering  Arab  taking 
the  water?"  I  will  tell  you.  You  know,  whenever  persons 
join  our  church,  they  are  baptized  in  whatever  manner  they 
prefer — either  by  immersion,  pouring,  or  sprinkling.  But  I 
was  preaching  many  years  before  I  was  requested  to  baptize 
by  immersion.  I  always  knew  I  was  awkward  and  absent- 
minded,  and  I  was  afraid  I  would  make  some  great  mistake, 
and  thereby  cause  much  sport  to  the  sinners  who  are  at  such 
places ;  so  that,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  always  dreaded  to 
undertake  to  baptize  persons  in  that  manner,  and  felt  grate- 
ful that  I  had  never  been  requested  to  do  so.  Besides,  I  was 
afraid  that  I  might  make  a  false  step,  either  in  going  into  or 
coming  out  of  the  water,  and  fall  down ;  or  perhaps  I  might 
keep  the  subjects  uiider  too  long.  So  I  hope  my  friends  will 
excuse  me  for  making  a  full  confession,  and  saying  that  I 
dreaded  very  much  when  I  should  have  to  face  that  fire.  I 
felt  like  thanking  my  stars  that  I  had  so  long  escaped  this 
trouble ;  but  it  came  at  last  very  unexpectedly.  I  had  al- 
ways thought  I  would  have  a  long  notice  beforehand,  and 
thereby  have  an  opportunity  for  preparation.  I  had  been 
indirectly  spoken  to  on  the  subject;  but  had  always  per- 
suaded applicants  that  some  other  preacher  v^^-ould  be  more 
suitable  for  performing  the  solemn  service.  I  may  judge  my 
good  friend,  the  famous  leader  of  the  chapel,  wrongfully,  but 
I  suspected  him  of  having  an  agency  in  bringing  this  great 
trouble  upon  me,  as  he  was  well  acquainted  with  my  views  on 
the  matter,  and  I  think  he  moved  the  wires  on  this  occasion. 

Brother  Yarn  and  myself  had  a  two  days'  meeting  at  the 
chapel.  I  had  been  praying  for  and  expecting  a  gracious 
season.  I  had,  some  time  before,  taken  in  several  persons  at 
that  place,  and  was  hoping  that,  others  would  unite  with  us 
on  this  occasion,  and  that  the  old  members  would  become 
strengthened,  and  take  a  fresh  start  for  the  better  world. 

I  got  there  safely.  Were  you  ever,  friends,  on  some  plea- 
sant day,  when  all  was  bright  above  and  around  you,  sur- 
prised by  a  storm  suddenly  coming  u2:>on  you,  for  which  you 
had  made  no  preparation?     So   it   was  with  the    Strange 


254  STRAY    LEAVES. 

Preacher  on  that  meinoral)lo  da}'.  Ahnost  the  first  person 
to  meet  him  was  our  <s,()od  brother  the  leader,  wlio  tokl  him, 
"without  prefaee,  that  there  were  several  persons  to  be  bap- 
tized, who  Avished  to  be  immersed,  and  preferred  him  to  any 
other  preacher.  The  ceremony  was  to  take  place  on  the  fol- 
lowing day,  a  little  while  before  the  public  service  began. 
Do  please  feel  sorry  for  me,  my  friends.  I  at  once  began 
Avith  my  excuses — first  one  and  then  another  ;  but  nothing 
Avould  do — and  he  evidently  enjoyed  my  confusion.  The 
friends  had  fixed  on  me,  he  said,  and  would  take  no  denial, 
and  there  Avould  be  a  great  disappointment  if  I  refused — I 
must  not  think  of  such  a  thing.  I  told  him,  I  wished  ho 
had  sent  me  Avord,  so  that  I  might  have  had  some  time  to 
think  about  it,  and  have  come  prepared ;  that  it  would  have 
to  be  put  off.  But  he  said,  it  must  be  done  by  me  the  next  day. 
But  I  had  no  change  of  clothes  Avith  me.  He  had  arranged 
that,  too ;  and  I  was  to  go  to  a  house  near,  Avhere  I  Avould 
find  every  thing  ready  for  me.  But,  the  parson  said,  the 
creek  Avas  some  distance  off,  and  it  Avould  not  suit  so  Avell. 
My  friend  had  obviated  that  difficulty  also — a  spring  branch 
near  by  had  been  dammed  up,  and  Avould  be  ready  by  morn- 
ing, and  he  carried  the  Strange  Preacher  to  look  at  it.  I 
told  him  I  did  not  think  it  Avould  be  deep  enough  by  morn- 
ing. '-Ol^'said  he,  "you  and  Brother  Yarn  can  pray  for 
the  rain ;  and  though  there  is  no  sign  noAv,  I  Avould  not  be 
surprised  if  there  is  plenty  by  morning."  I  Avas  in  for  it ; 
and  so  the  service  Avas  appointed  accordingly.  1  confess 
freely,  that  I  doubt  if  five  minutes  elapsed,  except  while  I 
Avas  asleep,  in  Avhich  I  did  not  think  of  and  dread  the  coming 
trouble.  I  cannot  tell  Avhether  the  meeting  Avas  good  or  in- 
different— Avhether  the  preachers  SAVung  clear  or  got  in  the 
brush — I  knoAv  nothing  about  it,  for  my  mind  Avas  taken  up 
Avith  other  thoughts.  The  class-leader  looked  all  the  time 
as  if  he  Avere  enjoying  my  confusion  vastly.  I  had  been  in 
that  neighborhood  often,  and  always  found  the  brethren 
kind  and  respectful;  but  on  this  occasion,  I  admit  that  I 
spent  a  very  unpleasant  time,  until  the  great  trial  was  over. 
Some  of  my  friends,  the  class-leader  in  particular,  drilled 
me  again  and  again — shoAvdng  me  how  to  stand,  and  place 


THE   TIME    OF   TRIAL.  255 

my  hands.  I  remember  he  said,  with  a  smile,  "  Brother  B., 
if  you  are  still  uneasy,  I  will  go  with  you  to  the  creek,  and 
you  can  practice  with  me  to  your  heart's  content — an  hour 
if  you  want  to."  Do  not  laugh  at  me  too  much,  when  I  ac- 
knowledge, that  had  I  known  what  was  a-head  of  me,  I 
would  not  have  had  the  meeting  at  that  time.  I  could 
scarcely  for  a  moment  think  of  anything  else ;  even  while  in 
conversation  my  thoughts  Avere  on  that  all-important  sub- 
ject. We  spent  the  evening  at  a  good  sister's  house,  which 
was  truly  a  home  for  the  preachers.  I  had  spent  many  plea- 
sant hours  there  in  other  days ;  but  on  that  never-to-be-for- 
gotten evening,  the  first  and  only  subject  with  me  was  the 
confusion  and  embarrassment  of  the  coming  baptism.  My 
true  friend,  Brother  Y.,  was  a  great  helj)  to  me.  I  have 
often  felt  glad  to  have  him  with  me,  but  perhaps  never  more 
so  than  on  that  occasion.  I  am  truly  sorry  to  say  that  I 
was  so  confused,  but  so  it  was ;  and  in  writing  these 
"Leaves,"  I  wish  to  give  you  a  correct  picture  of  myself, 
as  well  as  of  others.  Brother  Y.  thought  with  me,  that 
unless  we  had  rain,  the  pool  would  not  be  deep  enough  ; 
and  so  we  did  not  forget  to  pray  for  it,  as  we  had  been 
advised.  There  was  a  great  fall  of  Avater  that  night ;  but  I 
suspect,  if  the  truth  must  be  told,  the  Strange  Preacher 
would  have  been  very  willing  for  the  rain  to  prevent  the 
people  from  going  to  church  next  day.  The  clothes  I  wag 
to  use  were  given  to  me  ;  I  tried  them  on ;  they  answered 
very  well,  so  I  could  not  make  that  an  excuse  for  declining. 
Every  hour  brought  me  nearer  the  dreaded  Eubicon,  soon 
to  be  crossed ;  and  I  suspect  the  good  friends  noticed  my 
absent  manner. 

The  holy  Sabbath  had  come,  and  the  rain  had  stopped. 
The  blessed  day  had  calmed  my  mind  somewhat,  but  still 
there  was  much  anxious  thought  lurking  within.  And  the 
Strange  Preacher  thought  he  would  be  sure  to  make  some 
blunder,  when  some  would  laugh  aloud,  while  others  felt  for 
him.  When  we  arrived  at  the  church,  we  found  several  per- 
sons there — among  them  the  fun-loving  class-leader,  with 
a  suppressed  smile  on  his  face.  Even  his  gentle,  heavenly- 
minded  wife,  had  a  marked  expression  on  her  countenance, 


25(5  STRAY  LEAVES. 

which  seemed  to  say,  *'  Brother  B.,  I  am  sorry  for  you ;  I 
wish  you  understood  it  as  well  as  our  preachers  do — there 
weuld  be  no  mistake  then."  We  went  to  look  at  the  water ; 
all  said  it  was  deep  enough.  The  crowd  increased ;  there 
were  only  a  few  moments  left,  and  1  kncw^there  was  no  way 
of  escape.  We  were  at  last  prepared  for  immersing  the  sub- 
jects— some  fifteen  in  number,  among  them  several  young 
ladies.  We  had  to  descend  a  little  hill,  which  had  been 
made  slippery  by  the  recent  showers ;  and  some  one  whis- 
pered to  me,  to  be  very  careful  in  going  down  the  hill,  lest 
I  should  foil.  I  had  been  thinking  of  it  myself  The  leader, 
who  was  the  master  of  the  ceremonies,  came  up  to  me,  and 
said  every  thing  was  ready,  and  I  had  better  not  wait 
longer.  He  told  me  to  begin  with  the  young  ladies,  and 
take  one  on  each  arm  down  into  the  water;  and  charged  me 
to  be  cautious  how  I  walked,  for,  said  he,  ''  you  know,  Bro- 
ther B.,  it  would  be  dreadful  to  fall  with  a  lady  on  each 
arm."  I  said  nothing,  but  thought  to  myself,  if  that  does 
happen,  the  Wandering  Arab  will  never  have  another  ap- 
pointment at  English  Chapel. 

The  service  begun  by  the  singing  of  an  appropriate  hymn, 
the  class-leader  doing  his  full  part.  The  usual  questions 
were  asked  and  answered,  and  prayer  was  offered.  During 
all  this  time,  I  thought  it  best  not  to  look  around,  lest  I 
should  see  a  smile  or  something  that  might  confuse  me.  The 
procession  began  ;  we  marched  down  the  slippery  hill — the 
Wandering  Arab,  with  a  young  lady  holding  on  to  each  arm, 
walking  very  carefully,  dreading  a  fall,  with  the  words  still 
ringing  in  his  ear,  "Brother  B.,  that  will  be  awful,  with  a 
lady  on  each  arm."  But,  through  the  mercy  of  God,  I 
reached  the  water  with  my  fair  charge  safely,  and  silently 
asked  help  from  on  high.  I  had  heard  persons  say,  that 
they  did  not  think  the  subjects  were  alwa^'s  sunk  deep 
enough ;  and  I  said  to  myself,  "  I  will  try  to  make  all  sure  ; 
there  shall  be  no  mistake  this  time."  I  began  with  the  two 
young  ladies  who  came  down  with  me,  and  performed  the 
service  as  solemnly  as  I  could,  bearing  the  subjects  as  deep 
under  the  water  as  possible.  I  was  by  this  time  well 
drenched;  but  I  continued  to  baptize  the  others,  assisting 


BOTHER   WITH   THE   BOOTS.  257 

them  to  and  from  the  temporary  pool,  dreading  each  time  a 
slip  and  a  fall,  and  with  my  mind  firmly  made  up,  that  if 
that  happened,  I  would  be  seen  no  more  at  the  chapel.  One 
by  one  they  were  baptized,  and  then  the  procession  marched 
up  the  hill — the  preacher,  with  a  lady  on  each  arm,  walking 
very  carefully,  with  his  clothes  very  wet,  and  his  boots 
clasping  his  feet  very  closely.  I  suspect,  if  the  great  enemy 
of  mankind  ever  wished  to  trip  up  the  feet  of  the  Wandering 
Arab,  literally,  he  wanted  to  do  so  at  that  famous  immersion 
scene  at  the  chapel.  But,  through  help  from  the  Lord,  I 
marched  down  and  up  the  hill  safely,  which  cannot  be  said 
of  all  the  heroes  of  this  world.  When  the  service  was  over, 
I  was  congratulated  by  some  friends  on  the  performance ; 
and  the  general  impression  was,  that  the  subjects  had  been 
buried  fully  deep  enough. 

It  was  now  almost  time  for  preaching  to  begin  ;  and  I  re- 
tired to  the  woods  to  change  my  garments,  and  the  fun- 
loving,  but  still  good  and  true  brother,  offered  to  assist  me. 
I  expressed  myself  as  thankful  at  having  got  through  safely 
and  my  friend  observed,  that  he  trembled  for  me  as  I  walked 
down  the  hill,  adding,  ''  for  you  know.  Brother  B.,  it  would 
have  been  dreadful,  had  you  fallen  with  a  lady  on  each 
arm."  "Yes;'*  I  said,  "and  if  it  had  happened,  it  would 
have  been  my  last  visit  to  this  place."  "  But,"  he  replied, 
"  you  got  through  very  well ;  and  there  is  no  mistake  as  to 
your  burying  them  deep  enough."  But  the  Wandering  Arab 
seemed  to  be  bothered  in  pulling  off  his  boots ;  and  I  do  not 
know  if  he  could  have  got  through  in  time,  if  his  friend  had 
not  helped  him.  So  he  sat  on  the  ground,  and  the  class- 
leader  pulled  away  as  for  life,  dragging  him  about  for  some 
time,  all  in  vain.  Was  he  not  in  a  fix?  At  last,  the  parson 
took  hold  of  two  little  trees  to  steady  himself;  and  once 
more  the  class-leader  pulled  for  dear  life.  The  boots  were 
off  at  last,  and  the  parson  was  fixed  up  in  time  for  the  meet- 
ing. On  his  way  to  the  church,  some  one  who  should  have 
been  there  before,  came  up  to  him  to  be  baptized ;  but  the 
Wandering  Arab  requested  to  be  excused  that  time. 


LEAF  THE  TIIIETY-EIGIITII. 

THE     PROTRACTED     MEETING     AT     D CLOSED    AND    RENEWED 

AGAIN  ;    OR,    THE   BEST   OF   THE   WINE   AT   THE  LAST    OF   THE 
FEAST. 

Yery  many  years  ago,  when  our  land  could  have  been 
truly  called  the  "Sunny  South,"  I  started  on  the  cars  for  the 

town  of  D ,  but  missed  the  connection  at  Florence,  whence 

I  had  to  go  on  in  a  small  hand  car.  I  found  a  kind  welcome 
at  the  house  of  a  brother,  whose  wife  was  the  daughter  of  a 
much-loved  friend  of  mine— the  Eev.  H.  S.,  and  I  soon  felt 
at  home.     Now",  brother  preacher,  if  you  have  ever  been  in 

D ,  I  suspect  you  have  been  in  few  places  where  you 

found  the  friends  so  kind,  and  the  congregations  upon  the 
whole  so  w^ell-behaved  and  attentive.  O,  how"  can  I  ever 
forget  my  first  visit  to  the  place.  Dr.  S. — w-hole-souled, 
noble-hearted  Dr.  S. — one  of  the  princes  of  our  Israel,  how 
glad  I  am  that  I  knew  and  loved  thee,  before  thou  wast 
called  to  the  Jerusalem  above  !  1  met  him  first  at  the  famous 
Gully  camp-meeting,  and  had  heard  much  of  him  even  before 
that.  But  as  much  as  fame  had  said  in  his  favor,  I  found 
she  had  not  done  justice  to  him  ;  and  I  think  I  would  have 
borne  the  sorrows  and  trials  of  life  better  than  I  have  done, 
if  I  could  have  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  him  oftener — for 
I  have  known  but  few  persons  Avhose  presence  encouraged 
me  more  than  that  of  Dr.  S. 

I  also  became  acquainted  with  those  tw^o  w^hole-souled 
men  and  true  Christians — having  the  blessed  God  for  their 
Father,  our  Saviour  for  their  elder  Brother,  and  the  holy 
angels  for  their  kindred — those  preachers  of  the  cross — 
knights  of  Zion — Brothers  H.  and  B.  I  think  1  met  them 
there  for  the  first  time  ;  and  there  was  something  very  cap- 
tivating about  them,  which  made  you  feel  that  they  had 
been  with  Jesus,  and  were  loved  of  him.  I  have  since  then 
often  met  Brother  H.,  and  the  more  I  saw"  of  him  the  better 
1  loved  him.    I  am  sorry  I  have  never  seen  Brother  B.  since, 


THE   CONVICTED    BACKSLIDER.  259 

• 
for  I  know  he  would  have  won  still  more  of  my  good  opin- 
ion ;  but  I  hope  to  see  more  of  him  in  heaven  than  I  have 
upon  earth.  One  was  a  Methodist,  and  the  other  a  Baptist, 
preacher;  and  both  the  church  and  the  world  would  be  much 
better  off  than  they  are,  if  there  were  more  of  such  men 
among  us. 

I  remember  well  how  Brothers  G.  and  M.  met  me  ;  and  I 
was  much  strengthened  in  their  friendly  presence. 

I  uever  can  forget  my  first  text.  It  was  our  Saviour's 
question  to  the  apostles — "  Will  ye  also  go  away?"  A  ser- 
ious, attentive  congregation  w^as  present ;  and  I  think  there 
was  more  than  one  person  praying  for  me  in  that  crowd. 
Minister  of  the  Gospel,  hast  thou  not  often  been  convinced 
whilst  attempting  to  preach,  that  there  were  present  those 
who  were  remembering  thee  before  the  throne  of  grace?  It 
w^as  so  with  me  that  day.  I  have  often  preached  from  those 
words ;  but  perhaps  was  never  so  aided  by  the  Holy  Spirit ; 
and  I  had  faith  to  believe  that  the  Lord  Avould  bless  my  poor 
labors  among  the  people  of  D . 

There  was  a  gentleman  present,  who  had  once  loved  the 
Lord,  and  who  had  once  fought  the  good  fight  of  faith,  and 
endured  hardaess  like  a  good  soldier;  but,  alas!  he  had 
fallen  from  his  high  estate,  and  gone  back  to  the  world.  He 
invited  me  home  with  him,  and  showed  me  much  respect. 
He  told  me  of  his  sad  condition ;  and  said,  that  after  leaving 
the  church  that  day,  he  fancied  he  still  heard  the  words  of 
the  text — "Will  ye  also  go  away?"  and  also  those  other 
words,  which  I  repeated  more  than  once,  "  You  may  go 
away,  if  you  wish" — that  I  was  standing  at  his  side  repeat- 
ing them — "You  may  go  away,  if  you  wish."  Poor  man! 
perhaps  it  was  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  making  a  last  eff'ort 
for  his  restoration. 

We  had  a  gracious  season  at  almost  every  service ;  mem- 
bers of  other  churches  were  present,  and  seemed  to  enjoy 
themselves  very  much.  Other  preachers  besides  those  of 
our  church  favored  us  with  their  presence  and  help-  and 
that  Baptist  brother  I  was  telling  you  of,  seemed  much  in- 
terested ;  and  I  was  very  glad  to  see  bim  among  us. 

Mourners  came  up,  and  in  the  congregation  there  were 


260  STRAY  LEAVES. 

signs  that  the  good  work  was  going  on  ;  but  it  was  not  so 
manifest,  so  general,  as  I  had  hoped  to  see  it ;  and  the 
mourners  w^ere  not  so  deeply  affected  as  I  thought  they 
ought  to  be.  Thej^  did  not  linger  at  the  altar  as  long  as 
they  often  do;  and  the  congregation,  though  serious  and 
attentive,  did  not  seem  so  deeply  impressed.  This  dis- 
couraged me ;  for  unfortunatelj',  I  am  of  sudden  impulses — 
sometimes  very  high  up,  and  then  again,  in  the  depths  of 
the  valley — as  Brother  Durant  would  say :  to-day  exalted, 
almost  above  the  "blue  throned  stars;"  and  to-morrow  very 
low  down  in  some  gloomy  vale — to-day  thinking  that  the 
meeting  ought  to  be  protracted  for  a  long  time ;  and  to-mor- 
row believing  it  should  be  closed,  and  requesting  the  friends 
to  wind  up.  I  had  felt  depression  creeping  over  me  for  some 
time  during  the  day ;  and  at  night  I  Avas  much  cast  down — 
more  so  than  I  would  have  been,  perhaps,  had  I  conversed 
with  Dr.  S.  before  service.  O !  how  well  do  I  recollect  the 
time — of  all  the  night-meetings  that  I  have  ever  attended, 
perhaps  few  are  so  well  remembered  by  me.  It  was  raining 
— not  so  as  to  keep  those  away  who  wished  to  attend,  but 
enough  to  serve  as  an  excuse  to  any  who  felt  inclined  to 
remain  at  home — and  we  had  quite  a  small  turn-out.  I  re- 
solved to  close  the  meeting — to  wind  up  the  banner,  and  call 
a  retreat.  I  concluded  not  to  consult  any  one,  lest  I  should 
be  advised  not  to  do  so.     I  had  before  this,  expecting  what 

might  happen,  sent  word  to  a  preacher  at  M. ,  to  expect 

me  at  such  a  time. 

When  the  services  were  over,  I  told  the  congregation  I 
would  close  the  meeting ;  but  suddenly  I  was  powerfully 
impressed,  and  told  them  I  had  something  to  say  to  them 
before  they  were  dismissed.  I  told  them,  I  felt  convinced 
that  there  was  a  much  better  feeling  prevalent  than  I  thought 
there  had  been  a  short  time  before ;  that  there  were  a  lady 
and  gentleman  who  had  never  before  thought  so  seriously  of 
religion  as  they  had  done  since  the  commencement  of  the 
meeting — particularly  that  night.  I  repeated  the  remark 
again,  that  I  knew  it  was  so ;  and  if  I  never  realized  it  in  this 
life,  I  would  go  to  the  judgment  seat,  feeling  I  had  spoken 
the  truth ;  and  if  it  could  be  proven  otherwise,  any  one  was 


AN   UNEXPECTED   LETTEK.  261 

welcome  to  do  so.  I  then  dismissed  the  congregation ;  and 
the  protracted  meeting  was  closed,  and  the  small  congrega- 
tion retired  to  their  homes,  with  such  thoughts  as  will  only 
be  known  in  eternity. 

I  went  home  that  night  with  Dr.  Z.,  with  such  feelings  as 
I  have  seldom  experienced,  strongly  impressed  with  the 
truth  of  the  declaration  which  I  had  made.  I  retired  to 
rest,  not  to  sleep,  but  to  think  of  the  conviction  still  upon 
me — believing  firmly  that  if  I  knew  no  more  of  it  in  this 
life,  I  would  hereafter.  In  the  morning,  the  same  feeling 
was  upon  me,  and  I  concluded  that  I  would  have  to  renew 
the  meeting ;  but  I  thought  it  best  not  to  say  any  thing  of 
my  determination.  And,  O  !  how  I  longed  for  the  presence 
of  some  of  my  much-loved  friends,  that  we  might  advise  and 
pray  together;  but  I  kept  my  thoughts  to  myself.  The 
family  expected  me  to  leave  the  next  day,  and  Brother  Z. 

said,  "  I  will  go  to  D for  your  trunk,  and  you  can  take 

the  cars  from  this  place."  If  I  had  told  him  what  I  felt,  I 
would  have  informed  him  of  my  change  of  mind ;  but  I  said 
nothing,  and  the  Lord  only  knows  how  I  tried  to  pray  while 
he  was  gone — still  convinced  that  the  meeting  would  be  re- 
newed. 

Dr.  Z.'s  house  was  a  green  place  in  this  wilderness  world, 
where  I  spent  many  happy  hours,  never  to  be  forgotten. 
Preacher  of  the  cross,  have  you  ever  been  there  ?  If  so,  I 
know  you  enjoyed  yourself.  And  did  you  not  feel  like  say- 
ing, "sin  has  not  blighted  all  on  earth;"  mother  Eve  has  yet 
some  pure  and  heavenly-minded  daughters  in  this  fallen 
world?  But  Dr.  Z.  has  been  called  from  earth,  where  he 
did  so  much  for  his  Saviour,  to  see,  adore,  and  praise  him  in 
the  Paradise  above.  Farewell !  thou  prince  in  our  Israel ;  I 
hope  to  meet  thee  again,  to  part  no  more. 

"When  Dr.  Z.  returned,  there  was  a  marked  expression  on 
his  face.  He  said,  "  Brother  B.,  I  have  brought  your  trunk ; 
but  I  do  not  expect  you  to  leave."  When  he  inquired  for  it, 
he  was  told  a  letter  had  been  left  for  me,  which  had  been 
sent  by  a  very  respectable  person  of  the  town  ;  and  although 
he  did  not  know  its  contents,  he  was  so  sure  that  I  would 
renew  the  meeting,  that  he  came  near  telling  Brother  W.  to 


2G2  STRAY    LEAVES. 

give  out  an  appointment  for  mo.  I  opened  and  read  the 
letter,  and  I  am  sorry  it  was  burned  with  my  house.  It  was 
from  a  lady,  who  said,  I  had  never  spoken  a  greater  truth 
than  last  night ;  and  she  reminded  me  of  saying,  I  might 
never  know  more  until  at  the  judgment ;  l)ut  she  Avishcd  me 
to  know  before  leaving  the  place,  that  there  were  two  per- 
sons present,  herself  and  husband,  who  had  never  felt  so 
much  of  religious  influence  in  their  lives  as  they  did  that 
night — though  they  did  not  know  each  other's  thoughts 
until  they  left  the  church ;  that  on  their  way  home  her  has- 
band  told  her  how  much  distressed  he  was ;  that  she  said 
she  felt  the  same^that  he  knelt  at  his  seat  for  the  first 
time ;  and  that  one  preferred  the  Presbyterian,  and  the 
other  the  Episcopal,  Church ;  and  she  asked  me  to  pray  for 
them.  Those  of  you  who  know  me  well,  can  fancy  how  I 
felt.  I  then  told  Brother  Z.  how  I  had  felt  ever  since  I  had 
closed  the  meeting,  and  of  my  conviction  that  it  must  be  re- 
newed ;  and  I  told  him  to  give  out  preaching  for  me  on  such 
a  night.  How  thankful  I  felt  that  I  was  so  soon  to  realize 
my  prophecy ;  how  I  prayed  for  a  manifestation  of  the  Holy 
Spirit;  how  I  longed  for  the  presence  of  my  absent  friend^! 
If  I  could  have  had  my  wish  granted  me,  how  soon  would 
Brothers  S.,  and  M.,  and  D.,  and  E.,  and  others  have  been 
with  me  to  assist  in  the  good  work. 

We  were  again  at  the  church;  and,  O!  how  I  felt  the 
Strength  of  Israel  with  me.  I  think  my  faith  was  never 
more  strongly  fixed  on  the  Rock  of  Ages ;  and  I  was  sure  of 
a  blessed  meeting — as  sure  of  it,  as  Brother  Postell  was  at 
Cattle  Creek,  in  the  days  of  "  auld  lang  syne."  I  felt  the 
presence  of  the  Lord  as  distinctly  as  ever  before  in  my  life. 
I  had  only  heard  of  two  persons  whom  I  might  expect  at 
the  altar ;  but  something  told  me  others  would  come.  I  in- 
vited up  mourners,  and  said  there  were  five  persons  who 
would  come — that  nothing  could  prevent  them ;  and  up 
they  came  at  once.  You  know  it  is  said,  "  Ask,  and  ye  shall 
receive ;  seek,  and  ye  shall  find ; "  and  I  asked  the  Lord  to 
give  me  twenty-five  or  thirty  more,  and  soon  the  altar  was 
crowded.  It  was  one  of  the  happiest  moments  of  my  life, 
for  there  was  joy  on  earth  and  in  heaven  ;  and  of  course,  the 


263 

Strange  Preacher  clapped  his  hands,  and  said,  "  Farewell 
world,  I  am  bound  for  the  kingdom."  The  writer  of  the  let- 
ter and  her  husband  were  the  first  at  the  altar ;  and  I  felt 
as  much  interest  in  their  conversion  as  if  I  had  been  told 
they  were  going  to  join  our  church.  I  called  to  see  them 
more  than  once ;  and  I  can  never  forget  them.  The  lady 
told  me  one  day,  that  the  night  before,  after  two  o'clock, 
her  husband  woke  her  up,  and  said  he  felt  worse  than  ever ; 
and  that  nothing  would  do  but  that  they  should  get  up  and 
dress.  She  complied,  and  they  went  into  the  parlor,  when 
he  read  the  Psalm  that  I  had  last  read. 

The  meeting  continued  to  increase  in  interest ;  and  Bro- 
ther Z.  one  day  said  to  me,  "  Have  you  noticed  how  the 
children  seem  to  be  becoming  more  impressed  at  each  ser- 
vice. I  expect  to  see  many  of  them  at  the  altar  at  the  next 
service."  And  so  it  was.  They  came  up  for  the  prayers  of 
the  church.  The  work  of  the  Lord  was  gloriously  revived ; 
many  weeping  souls  were  happily  converted ;  and  we  had 
"the  best  of  the  wine  at  the  last  of  the  feast." 

I  have  never  seen  that  lady  and  her  husband  since ;  but  I 
hope  to  meet  them  in  heaven. 

One  thing  more,. and  I  will  be  through  with  the  meeting 

at  D .     One  day,  as  I  was  passing  through  the  streets, 

in  company  with  that  good  Baptist  brother,  a  little  girl, 
with  a  sweet  smile,  said  to  me,  "  Uncle  B.,  mother  told  me 
to  tell  you  that  we  had  a  good  meeting  last  night."  I  said, 
"  Yes,  we  did."  She  said,  "  Mother  says,  she  has  faith  to 
believe  we  will  have  a  better  one  to-night,  and  I  have  too." 
And  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  the  Strange  Preacher  said,  "  Yes, 
my  child,  and  I  have  too."  And  the  good  brother  said,  he 
also  had  faith  to  believe  it.  And  so  it  was.  Bless  the  Lord, 
O !  my  soul ;  and  praise  him  all  ye  powers  within  me,  for 
that  never-to-be-forgotten  night.  I  was  glad  that  that  letter 
was  written ;  for  we  had  "the  best  of  the  wine  at  the  last  of 
the  feast." 


LEAF  THE  THIRTY-NINTH 

MEETINGS     ON     THE    COOPER    RIVER    CIRCUIT,    WITH     MY     MUCH- 
LOVED    FRIEND    AND    BROTHEH,    THE    REV.    J.    W.    KELLY. 

I  met  Brother  Kelly  for  the  first  time  at  old  Cane  Creek ; 
and  I  suspect  he  thinks  as  much  of  the  place  and  its  sur- 
roundings as  I  do — for  we  both  have  good  reasons  for  re- 
membering Cane  Creek.  I  have  always  loved  Brother  K., 
for  he  has  always  shown  me  much  respect  and  kindness,  and 
has  always  been  a  true  friend.  I  will  ever  regard  it  as  a 
happy  day  for  me,  when  I  first  met  him  and  his  now  sainted 
parents ;  for  I  have  seen  only  here  and  there  a  family  like 
Brother  Kelly's.  I  have  been  with  him  often  in  private, 
and  at  many  good  meetings — from  Rock  Springs  to  Cooper 
River ;  and  I  know  him  to  be  a  workman  that  needeth  not 
to  be  ashamed,  for  he  rightly  divideth  the  word  of  the  Lord, 
giving  both  saint  and  sinner  their  portion  in  due  season. 
He  is  a  whole-souled,  thorough-going  man,  and  a  good,  up- 
right, devoted  Christian.  All  hail !  to  J.  W.  Kelly — my  true 
friend  and  brother. 

Many  years  ago,  I  started  to  meet  him  at  a  quarterly 
meeting,  thence  to  go  with  him  to  other  places.  I  have  for- 
gotten many  of  the  events  of  that  trip  ;  but  I  know  that  I 
enjoyed  myself  very  much,  and  found  friends  who  were  kind 
and  attentive  to  me.  I  had  a  much  longer  ride  than  I  ex- 
pected. I  left  home  on  Thursday,  expecting  to  reach  the 
place  in  time  for  preaching  on  Saturday.  The  first  night,  I 
stayed  at  Brother  Appleby's — a  local  preacher,  and  a  man 
much  respected  by  his  friends — a  pure  child  of  heaven,  too 
good  for  this  sinful  world  ;  but  he  has  been  for  years  in  the 
land  of  the  pious  departed — the  happy  place  of  w^hich  he  so 
often  told  us.  I  had  the  pleasure  of  attending  many  meet- 
ings with  him,  and  always  found  him  faithful  and  kind — a 
man  you  could  depend  on.  He  told  me  that  he  thought  if  I 
would  stay  at  Brother  Williams's  the  next  night,  I  could 
arrive  at  my  journey's  end  the  next  da3^     I  was  otf  by  time 


A   HEAVY   KIDE.  265 

the  next  morning  ;  but  remember  little  of  that  day,  except 
that  I  had  a  long,  dreary  ride,  with  nothing  to  interest  me. 
I  went  several  miles  out  of  my  way,  by  taking  the  wrong 
road ;  but  by  the  aid  of  Providence  I  reached  Brother  W.'s 
about  sunset — where  both  horse  and  rider  found  rest.  I  had 
never  met  him  before ;  but  I  found  his  house  a  pleasant, 
quiet  place  ;  and  I  felt  glad  to  think  I  was  so  near  my  des- 
tination. After  resting  a  while,  I  observed,  that  I  expected 
to  reach  such  a  place  on  the  Cooper  Eiver  circuit  early  the 
next  day.  I  can  imagine  that  I  see  Brother  "W.,  as  he 
looked  surprised,  and  said,  "  You  will  do  well  if  you  reach 
the  place  in  time  for  Sunday ; "  and  if  I  ever  was  astonished 
in  my  life,  it  was  at  that  time.  Was  it  possible  that  I  had  a 
long  day's  ride,  before  even  reaching  the  neighborhood  of  the 
place  for  w^hich  I  was  bound  ?  I  became  cast  down,  and  for 
a  time  wished  I  had  not  started  ;  but  I  knew  it  would  not 
do  to  turn  back ;  and  hope,  the  child  of  heaven,  smiled  upon 
me,  and  I  was  resolved  to  go  on.  I  spent  a  very  pleasant 
night  at  Brother  W.'s,  and  made  an  early  start  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  got  to  Monk's  Corner  to  dinner;  but  was  still  some 
distance  from  the  place,  and  I  again  became  much  discour- 
aged. Saturday  night,  after  dark,  I  reached  a  house,  much 
used  up,  and  when  I  inquired  how  far  off  I  was,  I  was  told, 
it  was  only  five  miles  to  the  church.  Only  five  miles  !  I 
could  hardly  believe  it,  and  I  felt  at  once  much  revived ;  and 
began  to  have  somewhat  the  feelings  that  the  exile  has 
when  he  has  almost  reached  his  long  absent  but  much  loved 
home.  Only  five  miles  !  I  will  be  there  soon  in  the  morn- 
ing. I  stayed  near  a  church  called  Hickory  Hill — a  wayside 
house,  somewhat  like  old  Shiloh  of  sanctified  remembrance. 
I  thought  of  Brother  K.,  and  bygone  days  at  other  places — 
Cane  Creek,  Goshen  Hill,  and  Fish  Dam.  How  they  stood 
before  me,  with  other  friends  of  "  auld  lang  syne." 

Sunday  was  a  clear,  bright,  lovely  day.  Hovr  well  do  I 
remember  the  day,  while  writing  these  •'  Stray  Leaves," 
amid  the  ruins  of  my  much-loved  Mamre  !  I  was  in  hopes 
of  being  in  time  for  love-feast ;  but  I  could  not  leave  as  soon 
as  I  wished  to.  The  five  miles  seemed  rather  long,  but  I  at 
last  reached  the  place,  when  I  found  the  love-feast  was  not 
17 


266  STRAY    LEAVES. 

over,  l)ut  the  doors  were  closed.  I  had  l)een  a  h)nir  time 
cominii;;  Brother.  A.  was  wroiiii;  ahout  tlie  distance.  The 
doors  were  opened,  and  the  crowd  came  forth  ;  and  I  felt 
like  Ibrgetting  my  long,  weary  travel,  when  Brother  K.  gave 
me  one  of  his  unequalled  shakes  of  the  hand,  and  said,  "How 
are  you,  Brother  B.?  I  am  ver^^  glad  to  see  you."  And  Bro- 
ther S.  W.  Capers  came  up  with  a  firm,  strong  step,  and  a 
pleasant  smile  on  his  noble  face,  and  gave  me  a  greeting 
which  would  almost  have  made  a  captive  prince  forget  for 
the  time  his  palace  home.  I  was  almost  tempted  to  clap  my 
hands,  and  cry  out,  "  Farewell  world  !  "  Bless  the  Lord,  O, 
my  soul !  for  that  Cooper  Eiver  welcome.  May  I  not  forget 
it  on  earth,  and  think  of  it  in  heaven  I  All  hail !  to  my  dear 
departed  friend,  S.  W.  Capers,  in  glory.  All  hail !  to  my 
much-loved  friend,  J.  W.  Kelly. 

I  would  have  written  a  whole  number  as  a  memento  of 
the  immortal  S.  W.  Capers,  but  I  was  afraid  to  make  the 
effort ;  not  because  I  did  not  love  and  respect  the  man,  but 
because  I  knew  too  well  that  only  a  Homer  could  describe 
an  Achilles.  So  please  let  that  be  my  excuse.  Those  who 
have  more  than  once  heard  him  preach  on  extra  occasions, 
when  the  Lord  was  with  him,  I  think,  should  never  forget 
him ;  and  those  who  were  less  fortunate,  missed  what  they 
would  have  remembered  long  with  much  interest.  As  I  have 
alluded  to  the  departed  hero,  if  you  will  excuse  me,  I  will 
say  a  few  words  about  a  sermon  I  heard  from  him.  Though 
not  on  an  extra  occasion,  the  Lord  was  with  him.  The  sub- 
ject was  about  growing  in  grace;  and  among  other  things, 
he  told  us  of  a  man  whom  he  once  knew,  who  ran  well  for  a 
while,  and  grew  in  grace  when  very  poor,  and  when  the 
world  frowned  upon  him ;  but  who  made  a  sad  decline  in 
his  after  life,  when  he  owned  riches  and  the  w^orld's  favor, 
lie  described  him  so  much  to  the  life,  that  I  almost  fancied 
I  had  known  the  man.  He  began  with  him  when  he  hi\d 
just  entered  upon  life,  and  was  poor  and  homeless,  and  had 
to  work  hard  for  his  bread.  He  at  last  bought  a  few  acres 
of  land,  and  erected  a  small  log  house,  and  then  married  a 
poor  woman.  They  were  converted  at  the  same  time,  and 
started  together  for  the  better  world.     They  continued  to 


DANGER   OF   RICHES.  267 

grow  in  grace,  and  were  very  devoted  to  the  church.  They 
had  to  go  some  distance  to  church,  across  a  hirge  swamp, 
and  sometimes  she  had  a  child  to  carry  in  her  arms ;  but 
they  loved  the  Lord,  and  had  some  little  to  give  in  support 
of  the  gospel.  One  day,  he  took  an  axe,  and  cut  a  foot-path 
through  the  swamp,  and  threw  a  tree  across  the  creek — 
thereby  shortening  the  distance.  Sometimes,  each  one  would 
have  a  child  to  carry ;  but  they  often  got  very  happy,  and 
shouted  aloud  the  praise  of  the  Lord.  After  a  while,  he  be- 
gan to  rise  in  the  world ;  and  they  both  came  to  church  on 
one  horse ;  but  they  did  not  get  happy  as  often  as  formerly. 
And  after  a  while,  he  bought  a  buggy ;  but  they  Avere  not 
so  regular  in  attending  church  as  in  their  days  of  poverty. 
He  continued  to  prosper,  and  ere  long  had  a  fine  carriage 
and.  horses ;  but  they  were  fast  declining  in  grace,  and 
seldom  went  to  church,  except  on  extra  occasions.  He 
finally  became  a  public  man,  and  was  sent  to  the  Legisla- 
ture ;  and  then  there  was  a  fine  church  built  near  his  house, 
but  he  scarcely  went  there  once  a  year — for  he  had  lost  his 
religion,  and  gone  back  to  the  world.  The  picture  was  so 
truthful,  so  like  ix)or  human  nature,  that  it  made  a  great 
impression . 

But  let  us  return  to  Brother  Kelly. 

I  am  sorry  I  have  forgotten  so  many  things  of  interest 
which  transpired  on  that  trip ;  but  I  will  tell  you  of  what  I 
remember.  I  preached  the  first  sermon  that  day.  There 
was  a  large  crowd  out,  and  my  subject  was,  "  Solomon,  my 
son" — which  is  one  of  my  old  favorites.  The  church  must 
have  prayed  that  day,  particularly  the  preacher ;  for  the 
Holy  Spirit  came  down  in  much  power.  Several  persons 
crossed  the  bar,  making  for  the  deep  sea,  under  the  influence 
of  a  mighty  spring-tide,  which  swept  every  thing  before  it ; 
and  some  of  the  sisters  were  as  happy  as  I  thought  they 
could  well  be  this  side  of  the  river  of  death  ;  and  the  grand 
old  woods  around  Hopewell  rang  with  the  shouts  of  the  ran- 
somed of  the  Lord. 

I  recollect  one  picture  well — of  a  backslider,  who  had  gone 
back  into  forbidden  paths.  The  Spirit  of  the  Lord  took  hold 
of  him,  as  it  were,  and  held  him  over  the  open  jaws  of  hell. 


268  STRAY    LEAVES. 

He  was  a  tall  man,  and  wore  liis  boots  on  the  outside.  Ho 
came  np  with  an  ex])ression  that  seemed  to  say,  "  all  tjio 
devils  of  perdition  are  close  behind  me." 

After  an  interval,  Broth^j  C.  held  forth  ;  and  wo  had  a 
most  wonderful  time.  Tih'e' meeting  was  kept  up  till  near 
night. 

Brother  K.  told  me  of  an  event  which  took  place  while  I 
was  preaching,  which  if  I  had  known  at  the  time,  might 
have  unhorsed  the  War  Preacher,  or  at  least  caused  him  to 
reel  in  his  saddle.  There  was  an  old  local  minister,  who  was 
very  deaf,  and  who  was  much  excited,  and  wished  to  hear 
every  word  ;  and  he  would  now  and  then  say,  "  Talk  louder, 
I  can't  hear  you."  Brother  K.  said  he  tried  to  stop  him, 
telling  him  he  would  disturb  me;  but  he  would  soon  begin 
again. 

Brother  K.  had  a  series  of  appointments,  at  which  I  was 
to  be  with  him ;  but  of  some  of  them  I  have  no  recollection. 
I  think  the  next  place  we  went  to  was  the  church  where  our 
old  deaf  brother  lived,  and  he  was  going  to  play  the  same 
game  again ;  and  Brother  K.  could  only  stop  him  by  telling 
him  to  sit  nearer,  and  that  I  would  speak  louder.  I  was  with 
Brother  K.  at  Hickory  Grove,  where  we  had  a  gracious  sea- 
son ;  after  which  we  passed  through  a  gloomy  section  of 
country — through  swamps  of  awful  names  and  dismal  sur- 
roundings;  and  I  felt  like  saying  to  myself,  '-Jordan  is  a 
hard  road  to  travel,  and  so  is  Cooper  Eiver  circuit."  But 
my  Cane  Creek  friend  Was  wnth  me,  who  kept  me  from 
being  cast  down  and  sad  of  heart.  I  have  often  wished  I 
had  the  tine  flow  of  spirits  that  some  men  have.  But  the 
Wandering  Arab  sometimes  passes  rapidly  from  one  extreme 
to  another.  I  do  not  remember  ever  having  seen  Brother 
K.  with  his  harp  on  the  willows.  He  reminds  me  of  some 
bold  river,  which  flows  on  in  its  bold  channel,  whether  heavy 
rains  fall  or  not ;  and  I  have  scarcely  ever  seen  a  more  suit- 
able travelling  companion  than  Brother  John  W.  Kelly.  If 
I  was  discouraged  because  of  having  made  a  failure,  he  would 
tell  me  of  a  time  when  the  Lord  was  present,  and  the  parson 
swung  clear.  If  I  was  disappointed  on  account  of  the  small 
turn-out,  ho  would  remind  me  of  a  time  when  the  large 


KISSED    BY   AX   ANGEL.  269 

church  was  thronged,  and  the  word  went  to  the  hearts  of 
the  people.  In  my  opinion,  there  are  few  such  men  to  be 
found,  taking  him  up  one  side  and  down  the  other.  He  must 
have  entered  the  world  in  one  of  ISTature's  happiest  moods ; 
and  I  suspect  the  first  sweet  kiBS  he  received  was  from  the 
lips  of  some  holy  angel,  who  smiled  kindly  as  he  bent  over 
the  new-born  infant.  "  May  he  live  longer  than  I  have  time 
to  tell  his  years ;  ever  beloved  and  loving  may  his  life  be ; 
and  when  old  Time  shall  lead  him  to  his  end,  goodness  and 
he  fill  up  one  monument." 

We  had  a  meeting  near  a  place  called  Hell-hole  Swamp. 
What  a  name  !  But  the  church  was  called  Dawn  of  Hope — 
a  small  house  and  congregation ;  but  the  Strength  of  Israel 
being  with  us,  we  had  a  most  glorious  meeting,  and  an  old- 
time  shout  in  the  camp.  We  also  had  quite  an  interesting 
love-feast,  with  a  gracious  season  from  the  Lord.  There  was 
a  good  German  brother  present,  who  took  quite  a  fancy  to 
the  War  Preacher ;  and  who,  1  was  told  afterwards,  often 
prayed  for  me  in  public — mentioning  me  as  the  Walterboro 
preacher.  That  season  of  refreshing  at  that  small  way-side 
church  was,  I  think,  hard  to  beat ;  and  I  told  Brother  K.,  I 
thought  the  name  should  be  changed  from  Dawn  of  Hope  to 
Hope  Eealized. 

We  next  went  to  a  church  called  the  Fort's  Church,  which 
was  one  the  chief  places  on  the  circuit ;  and  I  think  we  there 
had  our  best  meeting.  It  was  a  time  of  great  rejoicing  and 
happy  remembrance.  The  congregation  seemed  to  be  under 
the  direct  influence  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  There  was  a  Bro- 
ther John  Forts  there,  one  of  the  princes  of  our  Israel — a 
young  man  of  strong  faith  and  works,  full  of  hope  and  love. 
I  was  much  impressed  in  his  favor,  and  was  glad  to  form  his 
acquaintance,  and  to  meet  him  at  other  places.  I  remember 
one  day  particularly,  at  this  church,  there  was  an  old  lady 
of  over  eighty  years  of  age,  who  was  still  unconverted  at 
that  late  hour  of  life.  And  there  was  a  great  manifestation 
of  the  Spirit  in  the  crowd,  and  the  church  was  filled  with 
the  Divine  presence;  and  that  old  lady  was  deeply  con- 
victed,  and  made  a  complete  surrender  of  herself  to  the 


270  STRAY    I.EAVKS. 

Lord,  and  ]Kissod  from  death  unto  life;  and  iicr  fri'ends  re- 
joiced with  her. 

We  then  had  a  two  days'  nieetini^  at  a  church  called 
Bethel,  where  there  had  been  camp-meetings  many  years 
before  ;*  but  the  tents  were  then  in  ruins,  and  the  old  place 
looked  as  if  it  knew  its  glory  had  departed.  The  meeting 
was  a  pleasant  one,  without  a  great  manifestation  of  the 
Lord  in  our  midst — but  the  church  was  somewhat  comforted 
and  strengthened.  We  stayed  mostly  while  there  with  a 
lady  who  lived  near  the  church,  Avhich  was  a  place  of  quiet 
and  repose  for  the  preacher  of  the  gospel,  where,  when  tired 
and  cast  down,  he  might  rest  from  the  troubles  and  turmoils 
of  life.  I  was  much  pleased  with  that  quiet  hermitage,  and 
its  gentle  mistress,  sister  Layton,  who  lived  so  near  old 
Bethel,  and  its  forsaken  camp-ground.  I  see  the  cottage 
now,  so  lovingly  surrounded  by  its  friendly  trees,  and  Bro- 
ther K.  and  myself  seated  close  together.  O  !  what  a  sweet 
place  in  this  desert  world  was  that  to  the  preacher,  on  the 
Cooper  Eiver  circuit! 

Some  years  after  this,  I  w^ent  to  another  part  of  the  cir- 
cuit, to  be  with  Brother  K.  again.  I  went  down  on  the  rail- 
road, and  got  off  near  Summerville ;  but  there  was  some 
mistake — I  was  expected  to  come  from  Charleston  by  the 
morning  train,  and  the  person  who  was  there  to  meet  me 
had.  left  before  the  down  train  arrived — so  I  was  at  the  end 
of  my  rope.  Those  of  you  who  have  passed  the  L* Turn- 
out, know  that  it  has  not  a  very  promising  look  ;  and  it 
might  be  regarded  by  some  as  one  of  thos3  jumping-olf 
places  of  which  you  have  heard.  I  hope  I  may  never  have 
to  get  off  there  again,  with  no  one  to  meet  me.  I  did  not 
know  w^hat  to  do  w^ith  myself;  and  felt  the  "  b!ues"  coming 
on  rapidly.  If  I  had  been  called  on  then  for  a  sermon,  I 
suppose  it  w^ould  have  been  from,  "  Why  art  thou  cast  down, 
O,  my  soul ! "  I  began  to  think  of  my  distant  home,  and 
that  my  roving  life  had  some  very  unpleasant  pictures  con- 
nected with  it — such  as  my  present  unpleasant  situation.  I 
have  never  tried  that  place  since ;  I  am  afraid  of  it.  But 
hope  smiled  on  me,  and  whispered,  "  better  days  a-head, 
w^hen  you  step  off  the  cars  above,  at  the  Mount  Zion  depot, 


EXPERIENCE   OF   A    HORSE.  271 

on  the  other  side  of  the  flood  ;  many  friends  will  be  there 
waiting  for  you.  Your  much-loved  mother  will  be  there, 
among  the  first  to  greet  you  with  a  sweet  kiss  on  the  left 
cheek,  as  she  did  that  night  in  the  dream,  and  will  say,  '  wel- 
come home  to  heaven,  my  Methodist  son,  I  am  glad  to  see 


you 


>  n 


And  the  vStranore  Preacher  was  at  once  on  the  moun- 


tain top ;  and  should  he  have  been  called  on  for  a  sermon 
then,  it  would  have  been  from,  "  I  was  glad  when  they  said 
unto  me,  let  us  go  unto  the  house  of  the  Lord." 

Some  one  told  me,  there  was  a  free  negro,  named  Lamb, 
living  near,  who  was  a  clever  person,  and  a  member  of  the 
church,  who  would  help  me  on  my  way.  vSo  I  went  there, 
and  found  every  thing  very  comfortable  around  him,  with 
plenty  of  money  and  servants ;  but  he  kept  his  proper  place. 
A  good  dinner  was  served — himself  and  wife  waiting  on  the 
Strange  Preacher;  after  which  he  sent  me  to  Monk's  Cor- 
ner. But  I  was  still  some  twenty  miles  from  the  church. 
I  was  told  there  was  to  be  night-meeting,  and  that  I  could 
reach  it  in  time,  by  riding  an  old  horse  which  had  been 
placed  at  my  service — which,  they  said,  did  very  well  with 
a  spur.  And  so  the  Strange  Preacher  started  off,  with  the 
tide  of  feeling  again  turning.  That  was  in  some  respects  the 
most  unpleasant  ride  I  ever  had.  I  found  the  horse  very 
slow,  moving  at  a  snail's  pace ;  but  by  using  the  spur  fre- 
quently, he  would  go  off  in  a  long,  jolting,  rough  trot,  which 
would  not  last  more  than  a  hundred  yards,  when  he  would 
again  relapse  into  his  slow  gait.  Did  you  ever  see  a  horse 
that  would  trot  all  day  under  the  shade  of  a  tree  ?  Did  you 
ever  see  a  horse  that,  it  seemed  to  you,  whenever  you  spurred 
him  on  one  side,  that  would  move  while  the  other  stood  still? 
I  thought  I  was  riding  such  an  one  that  evening.  I  only  went 
a  few  miles,  and  stopped  all  night  at  a  good  Baptist  brother's 
house.  He  knew  the  horse  I  was  riding,  for  he  once  owned 
him ;  and  he  said  he  was  sorry  for  me,  for  he  was  the  mean- 
est saddle  horse  he  ever  saw ;  and  1  was  yet  a  long  way  from 
the  church.  I  was  completely  used  up ;  but  the  family  were 
very  kind,  and  did  all  they  could  to  make  me  feel  at  home, 
and  I  spent  some  pleasant  hours  under  that  friendly  roof. 
My  slumber  was  profound ;  and  Sunday  morning  found  me 


272  STRAY   LEAVES. 

iiiucli  retVcslied  aiul  streiigtheiied.  My  kind  Baptist  brother 
was  Borry  tor  lue,  when  he  thought  of  ni}'  liaving  to  ride  that 
rough  horse  again  ;  and  8aid,  he  had  two  good  spurs,  and 
woukl  mount  him  himself,  and  see  if  he  coukl  not  make  both 
sides  go  at  the  same  time ;  and  he  had  a  gentle  horse  that  I 
could  ride,  and  his  wife  would  go  too.  vSo  we  started  off  for 
church  that  holy  morning.  How  different  was  the  morning 
ride  to  that  of  the  past  evening.  The  roads,  woods,  and  wea- 
ther were  all  the  same  ;  and  yet  the  situation  was  very  differ- 
ent. How  was  it  ?  I  was  better  mounted,  and  had  friends  with 
me  who  loved  the  Lord :  and,  what  a  difference  that  makes ! 
We  arrived  safely,  and  there  was  another  Cooper  River 
greeting.  Brother  K.  had  given  me  out,  and  regretted  much 
my  not  having  been  met  at  the  Turn-out.  We  had  a  fine  old- 
time  meeS:ing  of  much  interest — at  least  in  one  event,  if  no 
more.  There  was  a  Major  Durant  there — a  relative  of  Bro- 
ther Henry  Durant,  whose  wife  was  a  good  member  of  the 
church,  but  there  was  little  hope  of  his  ever  becoming  one. 
Brother  K.  had  no  expectation  of  his  ever  embracing  the 
terms  of  salvation.  His  was  a  fine  family,  and  I  took  quite 
a  fancy  to  them.  I  was  much  pleased  with  the  gentleman; 
and  began  to  pray  for  him,  and  hoped  he  would  join  before  I 
left.  We  stayed  with  them ;  and  although  it  was  my  first 
visit,  it  seei^ied  to  me  that  I  had  known  them  for  years.  I 
felt  sorry  that  he  was  so  indifferent,  and  hoped  yet  to  see 
him  start  for  heaven.  My  faith  became  still  stronger,  and  I 
counted  on  his  coming,  and  began  to  call  him  "  brother." 
Brother  K.  told  me  he  thought  I  had  best  not  do  so,  as  he 
was  afraid  his  day  of  grace  was  gone ;  but  he  thought  if  he 
ever  joined,  he  would  become  a  zealous  member.  They  got 
Brother  K.  to  baptize  their  child ;  but  at  the  last  day  he  had 
not  joined.  Still  my  faith  was  strong.  I  preached  ;  Brother 
K.  exhorted ;  and  we  had  a  glorious  time — but  when  the 
door  of  the  church  was  opened.  Major  Durant  did  not  come 
forward.  My  faith  did  not  waver.  I  told  Brother  K.,  as  it 
was  his  last  time  there,  to  exhort  again,  and  then  bid  them 
farewell — that  he  must  give  him  another  chance.  And  we 
had  a  strong,  forcible  exhortation.  Still  the  Major  did  not 
come  forward,  but  knelt  at  his  seat.     Though  we  were  dis- 


COMING   IN   AT   THE    ELEVENTH    HOUR.  273 

missed,  I  had  not  given  him  up,  and  I  made  a  last  attempt : 
I  have  never  made  such  another  effox't  in  all  my  life.  The 
Strange  Preacher  took  his  last  arrow,  and  as  he  drew  it  to 
the  head,  heaven,  earth,  and  hell  looked  and  listened — for 
the  fate  of  an  immortal  soul  was  trembling  in  the  balance, 
"We  were  outside  the  church.  Shall  heaven  or  hell  win  ?  O, 
glor}^  to  the  Lord,  heaven  was  conqueror !  And  we  shouted 
on  earth,  while  angels  rejoiced  in  glory.  I  stepped  up  to 
Major  D.,  but  did  not  call  him  brother,  and  told  him,  I  was 
sorry  he  had  disappointed  me  very  much.  He  asked  how  ? 
I  told  him,  I  had  counted  on  his  joining  the  church,  but  he 
had  not.  "Mr.  Bellinger,"  said  he,  '-I  am  sorry  I  did  not; 
but  it  is  too  late  now."  "Xo,"  I  replied,  '•  it  is  not  too  late." 
"  JSTot  too  late?"  said  he,  "then,  i^lease  sir,  put  my  name 
down."  O,  my  soul,  what  a  happy  time  we  had!  Those  of 
you  who  know  Brother  Iv.  and  the  Strange  Preacher  Vv^ell, 
may  guess  how  much  we  enjoyed  it.  We  had  the  best  of 
the  meeting  after  being  dismissed  on  the  last  day.  And  I 
regard  it  as  one  of  the  most  delightful  moments  of  my  life. 

Brother  Durant  began  at  once  to  work  for  the  Lord.  After 
some  time,  he  came  to  me  and  said,  that  an  old  schoolmate 
of  his  wished  to  join,  and  requested  that  his  name  might  be 
put  down.  I  think  I  enjoyed  myself  that  never^o-be-for- 
gotten  time  as  much  as  ever  in  my  life. 

I  never  saw  Major  D.  again ;  for  a  few  months  after,  he 
passed  to  his  reward.  Does  it  not  look  as  if  that  were  the 
last  offer  ?  And  was  it  not  coming  in  at  the  eleventh  hour  ? 
I  know  the  effort  was  out  of  the  usual  way,  but  I  have  never 
regretted  it. 

Farewell  to  Brother  J.  W.  Kelly,  and  to  the  Cooper  Eiver 
circuit. 


LEAF  THE  FORTIETH. 

TROVIDENCE     CAMP-r.UOUND,     FISH    DAM,    AND     BELMONT,    UNION 
DISTRICT,    SOUTH    CAROLINA. 

I  Started,  about  the  first  of  August,  to  attend  the  Provi- 
dence camp-meetino;,  and  after  tliat,  to  fall  in  -with  Brother 
Fleming,  of  the  Spartanburg  J)istriet.  One  of  my  namesakes, 
the  son  of  an  old  and  valued  friend,  Dr.  Bates,  had  written  a 
pressing  letter  to  me,  requesting  me  to  come  to  the  camp- 
meeting;  and  although  I  was  expected  at  other  places,  I 
concluded  to  go  to  old  Providence  once  more.  No  one  met 
me  at  Orangeburg;  but  through  the  kindness  of  Brothers 
Barton  and  Snell,  I  reached  the  ground  the  next  day,  in 
time  for  the  three  o'clock  sermon.  This  is  one  of  the  old 
camp-grounds  of  the  State — a  holy  place  of  immortal  remem- 
brance. I  have  attended  several  remarkable  meetings  there 
in  the  days  of  "  auld  lang  S3me."  What  a  band  of  noble, 
generous.  Christian  men — some  of  them  gone  over  the  flood, 
but  several  yet  left  behind — stand  in  sublime  relief,  when  I 
think  of  time-honored  Providence  !  S.  W.  Capers,  J.  C.  Pos- 
tell,  H.  II.  Durant,  W.  C.  Kirkland,  David  Appleby,  Dr. 
Boyd,  and  others,  are  departed.  N.  Talley,  C.  Betts,  W.  G. 
Connor,  A.  M.  Chrietzburg,  Rufus  Felder,  and  many  others, 
are  now  living.  How  plainly  do  I  see  them  before  me  now, 
as  when  listening  to  their  burning  words,  which  at  times 
almost  made  me  fancy  myself  in  the  green  fields  of  Eden ! 
Bless  the  Lord,  O,  my  soul !  that  I  have  so  often  felt  my 
blessed  Saviour  comforting  and  encouraging  me  at  old  Pro- 
vidence. I  have  found  the  friends  of  the  church  there  very 
kind  in  these  troublous  times.  O !  that  the  Lord  would 
save  them  all  in  his  heavenly  kingdom.  I  have  been  at 
some  wonderful  meetings  there,  with  Brothers  S.  W.  Capers 
and  N.  Talley.  When  I  went  there  last,  I  missed  some  of 
my  old  friends  very  much — Brother  Mallard,  the  just  and 
upright ;  Brother  Thomas,  one  of  the  sweet  singers  of  our 
Israel,  and  a  very  useful  and  faithful  servant  of  the  Lord, 


275 

full  of  joy,  and  faith,  and  love,  but  too  good  for  this  rough 
world ;  so  the  Lord  took  him  home  to  heaven.  I  fancy  I  see 
his  hope-inspiring  face  now,  as  I  often  saw  it  in  days  gone 
by.  And  father  Evans  was  not  there  to  greet  me  as  in  for- 
mer years ;  he  was  on  the  old  Cypress  circuit  what  father 
David  Felder  was  on  the  Barnwell.  And  that  old  hero,  Bro- 
ther Daniel  Dantzler,  was  not  there  to  cheer  me.  What  a 
pleasant  place  was  the  house  of  Brother  D.,  for  a  weary 
preacher  to  stop  at  just  at  sunset,  when  the  stars  were  be- 
ginning to  gem  the  heavens  ! 

I  remember  now,  almost  as  if  it  had  occurred  yesterday,  a 
scene  that  took  place  at  old  Providence  many  years  ago. 
Brother  C.  was  the  presiding-elder.  It  was  a  season  of  great 
rejoicing.  I  preached ;  and  the  Lord,  in  answer  to  the 
prayers  of  the  church,  must  have  blessed  me  more  than 
usual.  There  was  much  of  the  Divine  presence  in  the  con- 
gregation. I  had  drawn  the  picture  of  a  happy  death-bed — 
which  I  wish  you  had  to  hang  in  your  room,  that  you  might 
often  look  at  it.  The  next  morning,  -a  young  preacher  was 
rather  late  getting  up.  Brother  C.  awoke  him,  and  reproved 
him  for  his  late  sleeping  ;  when  he  said,  with  a  tear  in  his 
eye,-  "  I  am  so  sorry  you  woke  me  up,  for  I  had  a  most  beau- 
tiful dream.  I  thought  I  was  in  Charleston,  and  some  great 
painter  had  just  finished  Brother  B.'s  picture;  and  several 
persons  had  just  retired  to  a  certain  distance,  that  they 
might  get  a  right  view  of  it,  when  you  roused  me  up."  Bro- 
ther C.  told  him,  he  was  truly  sorry ;  and  Advised  him  to 
go  to  sleep,  and  try  to  dream  it  over  again, 

I  was  grateful  that  several  of  my  old  friends  were  still 
left  to  greet  me,  and  to  rejoice  with  me  last  year.  Brother 
G.  received  me  with  a  smile,  and  Brother  W.  Gr.  Connor  with 
a  kind  greeting  and  a  look  from  his  expressive  eyes  that 
went  to  my  heart.  I  saw  a  good  man  there — one  of  the 
heroes  of  Rock  Springs  memory,  a  strong,  faithful,  fervent 
Christian — Brother  Little.  ^Ye  had  not  met  for  fifteen 
years ;  but  how  swiftly  did  my  thoughts  go  back  to  Eock 
Springs,  and  I  heard  once  more  the  songs  of  that  tremen- 
dous congregation.  He  preached  twice,  I  think — a  o-ood 
sermon   each   time,    strong   and   forcible.     At   times    there 


2 70  STRAY    LEAVES. 

seemed  to  be  a  good  work  going  on  among  the  people.  I 
had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Brethren  W.  H.,  and  S.  G.,  and 
I.,  all  good  preachers,  and  famous  for  their  good  singing. 
The  elder  preached  only  one  sermon  ;  but  it  was  one  of  those 
efforts  which  both  saint  and  sinner  might  listen  to  with 
profit.  All  that  I  have  heard  from  him  for  years  have  been 
of  the  same  style.  And  if  there  is  a  ])residing-elder  of  the 
South  Carolina  Conference  who  can  preach  a  better  sermon 
than  the  one  I  heard  at  Providence,  I  would  be  glad  to  hear 
him.  He  made  only  one  remark  that  I  wish  had  been  left 
out.  He  represented  the  devil  as  a  fisherman,  and  enlarged 
on  the  idea,  leaving  out  nothing.  He  then  paused,  and  look- 
ing at  the  Strange  Preacher,  he  said,  he  knew  the  picture 
was  not  finished,  but  he  thought  I  could  do  it,  and  he  hoped 
I  would,  and  rather  thought  the  friends  might  expect  some- 
thing on  that  from  me  one  of  these  days.  You  must  know 
that  I  have  thought  several  times  of  something  to  add  to  the 
picture,  but  my  imagination  could  invent  nothing ;  and  I  am 
afraid  of  being  reminded  by  some  persons  that  they  are 
anxious  to  see  the  finished  picture ;  and  I  expect  to  keep 
clear  of  old  Providence  for  some  time,  unless  the  friends  will 
promise  not  to  insist  on  my  putting  the  last  touch  to  the 
picture  of  the  prince  of  hell  as  a  fisherman. 

And  Brother  W.  G.  Connor  gave  us  a  finished  sermon  on 
the  prodigal  son.  He  is  in  some  respects,  in  my  opinion, 
one  of  the  most  interesting  preachers  I  ever  heard,  and  his 
effort  on  that  occasion  was  one  of  his  best,  I  think,  not  even 
excepting  that  never-to-be-forgotten  time  at  Aiken,  when  we 
listened  with  so  much  pleasure  vv^hile  he  told  us  of  the  time 
when  the  morning  stars  sang  together,  and  the  sons  of  Grod 
shouted  for  joy,  when — to  use  a  phrase  so  well  known  to 
some  of  the  preachers — he  turned  the  corner  so  splendidly 
at  the  rate  of  twenty  miles  an  hour.  There  were  several 
things  of  which  he  told  us  in  his  sermon,  that,  it  seemed  to 
me,  ought  to  have  reached  the  hearts  of  the  most  hardened 
sinners  present.  The  unfortunate  youth,  pn  his  return  to  the 
much-loved  homestead,  stood  so  life-like  before  us  ;  the  kind 
and  sorrowing  father  taking  his  stand  by  the  road-side  be- 
fore the  morning  sun  arose — before  the  lark  had  sung  his 


UNPLEASANT   TRAVELLING   COMPANY.  277 

hymn  of  praise  to  Jehovah — watching  and  praying,  still  in 
vain,  the  weeping  father  stood ;  and  when  the  sun  had  gone 
down,  and  the  stars  had  come  out,  he  was  still  there — -weep- 
ing, hoping,  looking ;  and  at  last  the  prodigal  came,  and 
then  the  fond  embrace,  the  kiss  of  love.  I  wish  all  the  exiles 
from  a  mother's  or  father's  heart  could  have  been  there ;  for 
I  think  they  would  have  started  at  once  to  return  home. 

On  my  wa}'  up  the  country,  I  stayed  one  night  in  Colum- 
bia, where  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  Brother  William  T. 
Capers,  a  son  of  Bishop  Capers.  How  much  be  reminded 
me  of  his  sainted  father — the  same,  sweet  smile,  the  same 
gentle  greeting.     I  have  always  enjoyed  his  preaching. 

I  started  the  next  day  for  Fish  Dam,  and  Brother  Flem- 
ing's meetings ;  but  I  found  out  that  the  stage  would  not  go 
to  Spartanburg  that  day,  and  that  I  would  have  to  stop  at 
Alston,  which  was  not  the  most  inviting  place  one  ever  saw 
by  a  good  deal.  But  a  kind  Providence  directed  otherwise. 
A  gentleman  on  the  train  got  off  there,  and  took  me  home 
with  him.  He  was  a  member' of  our  church,  but  I  have  for- 
gotten his  name.  I  spent  a  delightful  time  at  his  house. 
His  w^ife  was  from  the  old  Concord  neighborhood.  And 
while  there,  I  thought  often  of  those  old  heroes,  Brothers 
Barr,  and  Spann,  and  Smith;  also  of  one  of  the  sanctified 
of  earth,  still  living — Brother  Joseph  Holmes,  once  of  the 
Conference.  If  I  ever  saw  a  man  of  whom  it  might  be 
truly  said,  "  He  lived  each  revolving  day  as  if  it  was  his 
last,"  Brother  Holmes  is  the  man.  I  spent  a  night  where  he 
had  lived  many  years  before ;  and  I  preached  by  request 
that  evening,  which  I  hope  was  not  in  vain. 

I  took  the  stage  the  next  morning  for  Shelton's  Ferry  on 
Broad  Eiver,  where  we  would  reach  the  cars.  But  I  had 
the  misfortune  to  have  some  very  unpleasant  travelling  com- 
panions. Did  you  ever,  preacher  of  the  gospel,  travel  many 
hours  in  close  contact  with  a  party  of  drinking  men,  who  had 
no  respect  for  your  feelings  ?  I  have  experienced  it  more  than 
once ;  and  I  know  it  to  be  very  trying.  I  hardly  know  which 
was  most  unpleasant — the  twenty  smokers,  near  Gunter's 
Bridge,  or  that  stage  ride  to  Broad  Eiver.  If  it  was  not  for 
one  exception — the  presence  of  Major  M.  G. — I  would  have 


278  STRAY    T.HAVES. 

prcferrod  being  mounted  on  that  old  horse  that  travelled  all 
day  under  the  shade  of  a  tree.  But  there  is  an  end  to  all 
thinijs ;  so  I  at  last  crossed  the  river,  and  rcafduMl  the  train. 
How  thankful  I  was  that  it  was  past! 

I  arrived  a  day  after  the  time  appointed  :  therefore  T  was 
not  expected.  I  got  off  at  Sims'  turn-out,  within  walking 
distance  of  Brother  Kelly's.  The  day  was  very  warm  ;  and 
I  had  two  carpet-bags,  an  overcoat,  and  an  umbrella,  to 
carry.  I  was  cuml)ered  with  many  things  ;  and  while  pass- 
ing a  house,  a  tremendous  dog  rushed  out  upon  me.  Both 
hands  were  engaged.  What  was  I  to  do  ?  He  seemed  ready 
to  spring  at  my  throat ;  and  I  thought,  "  is  this  to  be  the 
end  of  life's  pilgrimage  with  the  "Wandering  Arab?"  O!  no; 
the  lady  of  the  mansion  came  to  my  rescue ;  and  I  reached 
Brother  Kelly's  safely,  and  was  greeted  as  I  had  been  on 
Cooper  Eiver,  and  soon  all  was  right  with  me.  I  found  one 
of  his  sisters  and  her  children  with  him  ;  and  their  dear 
parents,  and  old  Cane  Creek,  rose  before  me  in  fond  remem- 
brance, and  I  felt  at  once  at  home.  We  talked  over  old 
times,  and  I  found  him  the  same  true  friend.  He  was  living 
at  the  place  his  father  left  him. 

Sunday  morning,  we  Avere  off  in  time  for  love-feast.  I  had 
been  there  before,  but  not  in  that  church.  It  was  one  of  the 
oldest  Methodist  prcachin^places  in  the  State,  and  some  of 
our  venerable  bishops  had  preached  there.  The  famous  pre- 
siding-elder  of  the  Spartanburg  district.  Brother  Fleming, 
was  there,  with  open  heart  and  hand  to  welcome  me,  and  it 
seems  to  me  that  I  still  feel  the  shake  of  his  hand.  1  wish 
I  could  have  such  welcomes  oftener  than  I  do  in  this  un- 
friendly world.     I  can  never  forget  those  happy  hours. 

The  meeting  was  one  of  comfort  to  me,  and  to  the  church 
generally,  and  it  was  said  to  have  been  the  best  they  had 
had  for  years.  I  saw  once  more  some  of  the  heroes  of  Cane 
Creek — Brothers  G-.,  and  S.,  and  H.,  and  J.,  and  others;  and 
O !  what  a  happy  time  we  had  ;  and  I  thanked  the  Lord 
that  I  had  met  them  once  more.  I  would  not  be  much  sur- 
prised if  the  news  went  to  heaven,  that  the  Strange  Preacher 
was  visiting  again  the  scenes  of  early  years,  and  some  happy 
spirits  were  bending  over  the  golden  walls,  and  regarding 


THE   SNOW-STORM   SERMON.  279 

with  pleasure  the  meeting  of  old  friends  upon  earth.  I  hope 
the  departed  saints — Brothers  Kelly,  Thomas,  Jennings,  Gril- 
1am,  Glenn,  Postell,  and  others — were  near  us,  and  that  they 
were  mingling  in  the  throng  unseen,  rejoicing  with  us. 

Brother  Fleming  fired  off  his  right-hand  barrel  on  Sunday, 
loaded  with  pelters.  I  had  not  heard  him  since  he  was  on 
the  Orangeburg  circuit — when  he  wrote  those  verses  on  the 
Wandering  Arab.  I  always  considered  him  a  good  preacher ; 
but  found  that  he  had  improved  in  the  course  of  time.  The 
word  went  home  to  the  hearts  of  those  who  heard ;  and  the 
work  was  revived.  The  Strength  of  Israel  was  with  us;  and 
the  banner  of  the  Lord  waved  in  triumph  ;  and  the  meeting 
was  protracted.  Brother  F.  had  already  told  me,  that  his 
entire  work  was  in  a  state  of  revival,  except  at  two  j^oints ; 
and  he  hoped  and  prayed  that  those  places  would  be  visited 
from  on  high.  He  left  us  on  Monday,  and  I  was  to  remain 
a  day  longer.  Brother  Mood  was  with  us  one  day ;  I  had 
not  seen  him  for  a  long  time.  He  preached  a  good  sermon ; 
but  I  have  never  known  him  make  a  failure. 

Di*.  G.  took  me  home  with  him.  I  had  been  sick  during 
the  first  of  the  year,  and  had  not  entirely  recovered — I 
needed  rest.  He  was  to  take  me  to  the  next  meeting,  on 
Brother  Ervin's  circuit,  where  I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting 
Brother  Joseph  Holmes.  It  has  always  been  a  treat  for  me 
to  be  with  that  w^ar-worn  veteran  of  the  cross — the  hero  of 
a  hundred  fields.  In  going  home  with  Dr.  G.,  I  passed  over 
the  old  Goshen  Hill  camp-ground ;  there  was  only  one  tent 
left.  It  was  about  dark,  and  silence  reigned  all  around.  I 
thought  of  the  blessed  times  I  had  had  there,  and  the  dear 
friends  gone  home  to  glory.  Brother  G.  reminded  me  of  the 
night  when  I  preached  my  snow-storm  sermon,  as  the  friends 
called  it ;  and  how,  w^hen  I  was  describing  an  awful  storm, 
the  weather  changed,  or  seemed  to  change;  when  some 
thought  that  the  thermometer  had  fallen  thirty  degrees ; 
and  one  gentleman  said,  if  the  cotton  was  killed  in  August, 
the  Strange  Preacher  ought  to  be  arrested  before  he  left  the 
district.  I  remembered  the  night  well,  and  also  what  one 
of  the  preachers  told  me  at  the  time.  He  said,  he  found 
himself  suddenly  becoming  cold,  although  he  had  on  a  thick 


280  STRAY  leavp:s. 

cotit ;  and  he  turned  up  the  collar,  and  l)nllonod  it  up  r-lose  ; 
and  would  have  ]mt  on  a  cloak  if  he  had  had  one. 

TVe  £^ot  home  some  time  after  night,  and  the  Doctor's  wife 
gave  me  an  old  Cane  Creek  welcome ;  and  all  was  right  with 
the  Wandering  Arab  once  more.  What  a  house  for  the 
preacher  I  How  his  comfort  was  looked  after,  and  every 
kindness  shown  him !  But  I  am  afraid  we  will  never  see 
each  other  this  side  of  the^flood  ;  for  l)r.  G.  moved  to  Texas 
not  long  after. 

Dr.  S.  came  to  see  me,  and  we  went  over  the  dear  old 
times  again.  And  we  went  to  an  old  Baptist  church  close 
by,  and  prayed  together.  O !  how  I  love  those  private  de- 
votions in  the  house  of  the  Lord :  for  1  have  often  thus 
found  my  Saviour  to  the  joy  of  my  heart.  Brother,  dost 
thou  love  to  bend  the  knee  alone,  with  no  one  near  but  the 
God  of  earth  and  heaven  ?  Art  thou  regular  in  thus  retiring 
from  the  world  to  seek  the  8on  of  David  ?  O  !  that  you  may 
always  find  him. 

Dr.  G.  and  myself  started  to  meet  Brother  F.  at  Belmont 
Church.  We  spent  a  little  while  at  the  house  of  a  sister 
Eice,  of  Goshen  Hill  memorj^ ;  and  I  was  sorry  I  had  to 
leave  so  soon — for  the  family  was  apparently  as  heavenl}'- 
minded  as  I  have  ever  met  with  in  all  my  roving  life.  And 
they  gave  much  more  than  a  cup  of  cool  water  to  refresh 
the  weary  traveller. 

I  passed  where  old  Mount  Prospect  academy  stood — where 
I  went  to  school  more  than  fifty  years  ago.  I  thought  of  the 
years  long  gone  by ;  and  I  saw  the  old  pear-tree  still  stand- 
ing, from  which  I  had  eaten  fruit  when  a  sehool-boy  ;  but 
there  was  only  one  limb  alive.  What  a  tale  of  olden  times 
could  that  old  tree  have  told,  if  it  only  had  had  a  tongue ! 
I  wondered  if  it  had  forgotten  when  we  played  under  its 
shade  over  fifty  years  ago ;  and  if  it  still  recollected  the 
merry  laugh  and  hearty  shout  that  were  heard  near  it  in 
olden  times.  I  am  afraid  it  had  much  oftener  heard  the 
angry  word  and  horrid  oath,  than  the  holy  song  of  Zion. 
O!  thou  old  pear-tree,  if  thou  art  still  standing,  one  of  those 
boys,  and  I  hope  others,  who  more  than  fifty  je^rs  ago 
often  sported  with  his  school-mates  near  thee,  has  long  been 


BELMONT   CHURCH.  -  281 

preaching  the  gospel,  and  hopes  through  grace,  when  life's 
pilgrimage  is  over,  to  pluck  the  immortal  fruit  from  the 
trees  which  grow  on  the  banks  of  the  river  that  maketh 
glad  the  city  of  the  Lord. 

We  stopped  that  night  at  Dr.  Hill's,  and  were  well  pro- 
vided for.  The  next  morning  we  started  for  the  church, 
and  reached  it  in  time.  But  let  me  first  tell  you  of  the 
situation  and  surroundings  of  Belmont. 

Next  to  old  Springtown,  it  is  the  finest-looking  place  for 
a  church,  I  have  ever  seen.  All  hail!  to  Springtown  in 
Barnwell,  and  Belmont  in  Union  District.  For  beauty  and 
loveliness,  you  surpass  anything  I  have  ever  seen  for  a  place 
of  prayer  and  praise.  I  had  been  wanting  to  see  Belmont 
for  more  than  twenty  years ;  and  I  have  often  longed  to 
attend  the  camp-meetings  held  there  in  former  years. 

After  shaking  hands  with  many  of  the  friends,  and  after 
seeing  the  many  noble  trees  that  stood  like  guards  around 
the  holy  place,  and  after  passing  through  the  grave-yard,  I 
felt  like  saying,  "  O !  that  I  could  have  been  here  many  years 
ago."  Brother  Ervin  was  a  friend  that  I  was  glad  to  see  ; 
for  I  had  known  him  before  he  began  to  preach,  and  his  pre- 
sence recalled  to  mind  dear  places  and  loved  friends.  Old 
Salem,  in  Lancaster  District,  was  before  me  as  large  as  life. 
Brother  Beckham  and  his  wife,  with  Brother  Frasier,  and 
many  others,  were  in  fancy  present ;  and  we  greeted  each 
other  as  in  the  days  of  "  auld  lang  syne." 

Brother  F.  came,  and  the  meeting  began,  and  embraced 
two  Sundays  before  it  closed;  and  it  was  a  time  of  rejoicing 
for  the  people  of  the  Lord.  The  Holy  Spirit  was  present, 
and  a  tide  of  happy  feeling  was  rising,  and  there  was  a  good 
prospect  for  an  old-time  meeting.  In  the  evening,  the  sub- 
ject was,  "Let  us  go  unto  the  house  of  the  Lord."  The 
meeting  began  finely,  and  the  friends  were  expecting  a  re- 
vival. I  met  with  a  kind  greeting  generally — very  much  so 
from  some.  Brother  G.,  with  his  pious  wife  and  daughter, 
won  the  Wandering  Arab's  heart  by  their  kindness,  and  I 
hope  to  remember  them  on  earth,  and  meet  them  in  heaven. 

Sunday  was  the  great  day  of  the  meeting,  and  many  per- 
sons had  to  remain  outside  of  the  house.     We  had  an  inter- 
18 


282  STRAY  leavp:s. 

estincj  love-feast,  and  then  Brother  F.  preached  an  impressive 
sermon ;  and  it  was  manifest  to  all  that  the  Lord  was  in  his 
holy  temple,  walkini^  amid  the  golden  candlesticks.  Bro- 
ther F.  showed  me  as  much  respect  as  I  have  ever  met  with 
from  any  presiding-older  in  all  my  life  ;  and  he  told  me  he 
wanted  me  to  preach  a  particular  sermon  at  every  place  I 
went  with  him,  and  he  was  to  choose  the  time  when  it  was 
to  be  delivered.  I  tried  it  there  ;  it  was  the  passage  of  Jor- 
dan by  Joshua  and  the  children  of  Israel ;  and  Brother  F. 
gave  us  the  distinguished  gentleman  from  Ethiopia  on  Mon- 
day. I  learned  something  that  day,  and  enjoyed  the  service 
very  much ;  but  he  left  us  in  the  evening. 

The  meeting  continued  to  be  interesting;  and  I  enjoyed 
the  singing  there  better  than  at  any  other  place  during  my 
trip  of  two  months.  Many  mourners  crowded  the  altar — 
among  them  a  blind  gentleman.  And,  O !  how  much  I  en- 
joyed the  singing  of  the  ladies  of  Belmont.  I  was  told,  that 
the  church  had  not  been  thus  visited  by  the  Holy  One  of 
Israel  for  many  years. 

Brother  Melton  was  with  us,  doing  good  service  for  the 
Lord  ;  and  Brother  Ervin  came  gallantly  to  the  help  of  the 
Lord  against  the  mighty.  He  is  a  noble  example  of  the 
Christian  gentleman — so  kind  and  winning  in  his  manners. 
He  is  a  man  that  all  the  church  should  love.  I  do  not  think 
I  could  remain  cast  down  in  his  cheering  presence. 

I  was  six  days  with  the  friends  there ;  and,  0 !  what  a 
happy  time  was  the  last  evening !  It  was  with  reluctance 
that  I  left  them.  Dr.  Gumming,  from  Spartanburg,  took 
my  place ;  and  the  meeting  was  kept  up  With  blessed  results 
to  the  end.  Bless  the  Lord,  O  1  my  soul,  for  that  visit  to 
Belmont. 


LEAF  THE  FOETY-FIRST. 

MESOPOTAMIA,    UNION    DISTRICT. 

On  Friday  morning,  I  bade  farewell  to  my  new-found 
friends  at  Belmont.  A  member  of  our  church  kindly  offered 
to  take  me  to  a  place  called  Mesopotamia,  where  I  was  to 
meet  Brother  F.  I  had  a  very  different  ride  on  this  occa- 
sion from  the  one  in  the  stage — for  there  was  a  brother 
Christian  with  me.  We  crossed  the  Tiger  Eiver,  and  at  last 
entered  upon  a  famous  section  of  country — the  mueh-talked- 
of  Pea  Ridge  neighbourhood.  I  was  there  at  last.  All  hail  1 
to  the  Pea  Eidge  country.  I  had  often  heard  of  the  region 
before,  and  had  been  invited  to  attend  some  meetings  up 
there,  but  something  always  prevented  me.  At  last,  how- 
ever, the  Strange  Preacher  was  in  that  famous  stronghold 
of  the  devil.  But  I  had  yet  to  preach  my  first  sermon  on 
Pea  Eidge  ;  and  I  thought  I  would  not  be  able  to  unfurl  my 
flag  in  that  notable  land.  I  was  afraid  that  the  prince  of 
hell  had  very  little  trouble  with  his  friends  in  that  vicinity ; 
for,  with  but  few  exceptions,  all  went  on  to  suit  his  pleasure. 
On  we  toiled  through  that  remarkable  portion  of  the  up- 
country — seeing  the  same  sights  all  the  time.  And  I  felt  my 
noble  war-horse  more  than  once  bearing  strongly  on  the  bit, 
as  if  he  were  longing  for  a  charge  on  the  powers  of  darkness ; 
and  the  Wandering  Arab  felt  like  calling  out,  "  Once  more 
to  the  charge,  dear  friends,  once  more."  And  he  more  than 
once  grasped  his  Damascus  blade,  and  longed  to  be  in  some 
famous  passage  of  arms  with  the  hosts  of  the  Lord  against 
the  legions  of  Satan.  But  we  are  told,  that  '•  every  cloud 
has  a  silver  lining,"  so  there  must  be  some  lovely  pictures  to 
be  seen,  spiritually,  if  not  temporally,  in  Pea  Eidge.  So  let 
us  fondly  hope — though  we  have  often  heard  that  hell's 
throne  is  set  up  there — that  the  Holy  One  of  Israel  has 
some  followers  there,  who  are  bound  for  heaven ;  and  that 
some  who  are  now  in  the  Jerusalem  above,  once  lived  in 
that  region.     For  I  must  believe,  that  though  the  visits  of 


284  STRAY  lp:aves. 

the  holy  angels  to  that  country  are  "  few  and  far  between," 
yet  they  surely  come  sometimes  on  missions  of  mercy  and 
love,  and  sometimes  carry  the  unexpected  and,  therefore, 
glad  news  to  heaven,  that  some  mourning  soul  has  passed 
from'death  to  life,  whose  home  was  in  Pea  liidge.  I  would 
feel  too  sad,  if  I  thought  there  were  no  glorious  death-bed 
scenes  connected  with  that  country — that  no  saint  of  the 
Lord  has  fought  the  fight  of  faith,  amid  the  trials  and  tempt- 
ations of  that  noted  region.  For  sweet  flowers  are  some- 
times found  growing  in  the  most  desert  places  of  this  world ; 
and  they  are  far  more  lovely,  and  more  likely  to  win  the 
notice  of  the  passing  traveller,  because  they  are  so  un- 
hoped for. 

As  I  was  leaving  that  famous  region,  I  took  off  my  hat, 
and  bade  it  farewell.  O  !  that  some  preacher  of  the  gospel 
may  yet  be  raised  within  its  limits,  who  will  be  valiant  for 
the  truth,  and  the  hero  of  a  hundred  battle-fields.  And,  O ! 
that  the  Wandering  Arab  may  yet,  through  grace,  save 
some  souls  for  heaven  from  the  noted  Pea  Eidge  country. 

It  was  now  near  sunset.  AYhere  shall  we  stay  for  the 
night  ?  was  more  than  once  asked  of  my  companion.  And 
I  was  told,  that  at  the  house  of  a  gentleman  from  the  low- 
country,  a  Mr,  D.,  was  a  very  good  place.  I  observed,  that 
I  knew  a  family  of  that  name,  whom  I  respected  very  much 
— though  I  had  no  idea  this  was  the  family.  But  I  was  told 
that  the  eldest  brother  had  married  up  there. 

It  was  some  time  after  dark  before  we  reached  Mr.  D.'s. 
I  called  at  the  gate.  A  voice  within,  said,  "  Brother,  Mr. 
Bellinger  has  come."  I  was  recognized  by  my  voice.  It 
proved  to  be  the  same  family  I  knew,  and  I  was  greeted 
with  another  Cooper  River  welcome.  We  were  glad  to  see 
each  other ;  and  it  was  a  pleasant  reunion  mixed  with  some 
sad  thoughts — for  we  had  all  lost  some  dear  friends,  and 
some  still  more  loved  relatives,  since  we  last  met.  I  was 
most  kindly  entertained,  and  w^as  pressed  to  remain  longer. 
Brother  Fleming,  wishing  to  take  me  by  surprise,  would  not 
tell  me  of  their  being  up  there. 

The  meeting  began  the  next  morning.  Brother  F.  was 
there,  Avith  his  flag  on  the  outer  wall.     The  services  began 


THE   BLIND   PREACHER.  285 

under  very  favorable  auspices,  and  continued  good  from 
first  to  last.  Nearly  everybody  was  a  stranger  to  me  ;  but 
I  met  with  a  kind  welcome  from  all.  The  signs  were  pro- 
mising, and  we  expected  a  good  time  ;  and,  bless  the  Lord, 
we  were  not  disappointed.  Brother  F.  opened  the  battle — 
in  person  charging  at  the  head  of  the  hosts  of  the  Lord ; 
and  a  victory  was  won  over  the  powers  of  hell.  I  was  intro- 
duced to  a  young  Baptist  preacher,  who  appeared  to  be  very 
pious,  and  devoted  to  the  good  work.  He  was  unfortunately 
blind,  but  took  much  interest  in  the  meeting,  and  remained 
with  us  till  the  end.  Brother  Watson  was  the  preacher  in 
charge,  and  said  he  remembered  seeing  me,  before  he  was 
grown,  near  Cokesbury.  He  made  a  strong  impression  on 
my  mind — more  so  than  many  young  preachers  I  have  seen. 
I  have  met  with  but  few  who  pleased  me  more,  than  the 
noble  and  generous-hearted  Brother  Watson,  who  fought  for 
our  lost  cause,  but  failed  to  win ;  for  the  earthly  flag  under 
which  he  marched  was  struck  at  last.  But  bless  the  Lord, 
O !  my  soul,  he  has  been  for  years  fighting  spiritually  under 
the  blood  sprinkled  banner  of  Calvary,  which  has  never  yet, 
or  ever  will  be,  lowered  to  mortal  or  immortal  foes.  All 
hail !  to  Brother  W.,  who  came  up  so  gallantly  to  the  help 
of  the  Lord  against  the  mighty. 

I  became  acquainted  with  several  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
who  paid  me  much  attention.  Brothers  S.  Walker  and  Lit- 
tlejohn  seemed  to  be  the  chief  men  of  the  church;  and  I  felt 
much  drawn  towards  them. 

The  first  Sabbath  of  our  meeting  was  one  of  the  days  of 
the  Son  of  man.  There  was  such  a  crowd,  that  not  more 
than  half  could  be  accommodated.  We  had  a  most  interest- 
ing love-feast ;  if  I  could  only  be  in  such  a  one  once  a  month, 
I  would  be  a  far  better  man  than  I  am,  and  would  live  nearer 
the  throne  of  grace  than  I  do.  But  such  blessed  feasts  of 
love  in  this  wicked  world,  are  ^'  like  angels'  visits,  few  and 
far  between."  Many  told  us  of  what  the  Lord  had  done  for 
them  ;  and  Brother  Watson  sung  a  few  lines  of  some  suitable 
hymns — while  the  fires  of  love  burned  upon  the  human 
hearts,  and  the  Lord  was  praised  by  mortal  lips.  Our  young 
Baptist  brother  was  much  moved,  and  reminded  me  of  Dr. 


286  STRAY    LEAVES. 

S.  in  his  first  love-feaSt.  lie  spoke  with  strong  emotion,  and 
a  fine  impression  was  made.  O !  my  soul,  how  the  Wander- 
ing Arab  exulted  in  the  Lord,  his  Strength  and  his  Ee- 
deemer. 

When  tlie  congregation  assembled,  every  place  was  filled ; 
and  Brother  F.  made  one  of  his  happiest  elforts ;  and  by  the 
help  of  grace  many  sinners  were  wounded  by  the  arrows  of 
truth.  Among  other  things,  he  told  us  of  a  wonderful  re- 
vival at  a  wicked  place  in  the  old  North  State,  when  every 
one  in  the  place,  except  two,  became  members  of  the  church  ; 
and  that  one  day  during  the  meeting,  a  gentleman  thus  pri- 
vately addressed  a  friend — both  of  whom  had  been  officers  in 
our  late  war  for  freedom — "  You  remember  such  a  battle  ? 
Just  before  going  into  it,  I  promised  the  Lord,  if  he  brought 
me  out  safe,  I  would  try  to  serve  him."  The  other  replied, 
"  General,  I  made  the  same  promise."  "  And  now,"  said  the 
first,  "  I  intend  to  fulfill  my  vow."  The  other  replied",  ''  And 
80  do  I."  And  I  think  both  joined  the  church  at  thart 
meeting. 

I  preached  in  the  evening,  at  the  request  of  Brother  F., 
on  the  crossing  of  the  Jordan  by  the  children  of  Israel ;  and 
the  Lord  revived  his  work — many  hardened  sinners  were 
cut  to  the  heart,  and  many  mourners  were  seeking  salvation. 
Bless  the  Lord,  0 !  my  soul,  for  the  outpouring  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  on  that  day. 

His  w^ork  calling  him  to  other  fields.  Brother  Fleming,  as 
usual,  left  me  to  go  on  with  the  meeting ;  but  there  was  a 
local  minister  with  us,  whose  name  I  have  forgotten.  He 
was  very  zealous  and  devoted,  and  a  whole-souled  man  of 
God,  fully  bound  for  heaven.  He  jireached  twice  for  us,  and 
prayed  at  times  as  if  he  had  hold  on  the  the  horns  of  the 
altar,  and  would  not  let  go  without  the  blessing.  This  was, 
in  some  respects,  the  best  meeting  of  the  trip — many  were 
soundly  converted,  and  the  glad  news  was  known  in  glory. 
The  colored  people  turned  out  in  crowds,  and  appeared  to 
enjoy  themselves.  Our  Baptist  brother  preached  two  good 
sermons  for  us,  and  was  of  much  service  to  us  in  prayer- 
meetings.  Members  of  other  denominations  seemed  to  enter 
with  interest  into  the  services,  and  seemed  to  be  drinking  of 


THE   HAPPY 'TUESDAY.  287 

the  wells  of  salvation ;  and  I  liad  the  pleasure  of  spending 
many  blessed  hours  of  joy  and  comfort  to  my  heart.  How 
much  those  dear  and  newly-found  friends  reminded  me  of 
some  much  respected  in  the  bounds  of  the  old  Walterboro 
circuit.  Brother  W.  is  a  man  among  a  thousand — a  prince 
among  princes.  Some  one  said,  if  I  had  seen  his  departed 
brother,  I  would  have  been  more  pleased  with  him.  That 
might  have  been  the  reason  why  they  were  separated — that 
one  might  serve  in  the  upper  temple,  while  the  other  was 
left  to  bless  the  church  and  the  world  in  these  degenerate 
days. 

I  hope  long  to  remember  that  nine  days'  meeting ;  and 
Tuesday  after  the  first  vSunday  in  September,  1866,  I  hope 
was  a  day  of  rejoicing  both  in  earth  and  heaven.  Let  it  be 
regarded  as  one  of  the  happy  days  of  the  year ;  let  it  be 
marked  down,  as  an  old  Eoman  would  have  done,  with  a 
white  stone.  At  least,  so  says  the  Wandering  Arab — for  I 
think  it  was  the  happiest  day,  spiritually,  that  I  had  seen 
for  ten  years.  At  that  Black  Swamp  meeting,  mentioned  in 
a  former  number,  I  was  blessed  more  than  1  thought  I  had 
ever  been  before ;  and  so  far  as  I  understood  it,  I  thought  I 
had  obtained  the  blessing  of  perfect  love,  and  I  enjoyed  Jt 
for  some  time ;  but,  alas  for  me !  after  a  w^iile,  I  declined  in 
my  spiritual  life,  and  I  know  that  I  did  not  love  the  Lord  as 
much,  and  serve  him  as  faithfully,  as  I  had  done  ;  and, 
though  living  in  the  comforts  of  religion,  I  had  lost  the 
greater  blessing.  Now,  I  do  not  say  that  my  soul  was 
sanctified  on  that  Tuesday,  but  I  believe  it  was  the  happiest 
day  I  had  seen  for  many  years  ;  and  I  hope  I  have  been 
getting  on  better  since  that  day.  To  the  Lord,  Most  High, 
be  all  the  glory. 

Day  after  day,  the  blessed  revival  went  on.  Hardened 
sinners  were  convicted,  and  fled  to  the  cross  for  salvation. 
At  times  the  crowd  was  not  so  large,  as  some  were  com- 
pelled to  remain  at  home ;  but  Jehovah  was  ever  present  in 
his  temple,  to  bless  all  who  drew  nigh  to  him  in  spirit  and 
in  truth.  There  was  one  young  man,  who  was  regarded  as 
almost  beyond  all  hope,  who  was  powerfully  impressed,  in 
spite  of  all  his  efforts  to  appear  indifi'erent. 


288  STRAY    LEAVES. 

The  last  day  of  the  meeting  had  come,  and,  by  request,  I 
preached  twice  on  that  holy  day.  Praise  the  Lord,  O !  my 
soul,  for  that  closing  blessing.  With  many  tears,  I  bade  the 
friends  farewell.  And  after  I  left  the  church,  a  stranger 
came  up  to  me,  and  threw  his  arms  around  my  neck,  weep- 
ing very  much ;  and  the  Wandering  Arab  said  to  himself, 
*'  This  must  be  one  of  the  old-time  shouting  Methodists." 
I  asked  his  name,  and  he  said  he  was  a  member  of  the  Bap- 
tist church  ;  that  he  had  enjoyed  the  meeting  very  much ; 
and  he  asked  me  to  i)ray  for  him,  that  we  might  meet  in 
heaven. 

Farewell  to  the  dear  friends  of  Mesopotamia,  where  I  saw 
the  best  meeting  of  my  long  trip.  Farewell  to  all  the  Metho- 
dists and  Baptists  there,  who  treated  me  so  kindly.  Fare- 
well to  the  gentle  maid,  named  after  her  own  river — the 
"Pacolet."     Farewell  to  the  kind  ladies  of  that  place. 


LEAF  THE  FOETY-SECOND. 

MEETINGS   AT    CANNON'S    CAMP-GROUND,    AND   IN    THE    TOWN    OF 
SPARTANBURG. 

I  started  for  Spartanburg,  where  I  had  been  expected  for 
a  month,  but  was  prevented  from  going  at  the  appointed 
time  by  protracted  meetings.  Brother  Watson  and  myself 
went  up  in  Brother  Walker's  carriage.  Brother  Watson  has 
a  pleasant  family,  and  no  wonder  he  loves  them  so  much.  I 
spent  my  last  night  with  him.  We  travelled  on  very  slowly, 
but  agreeably,  for  several  hours.  I  had  been  from  home  a 
long  time,  and  often  felt  like  returning.  Dr.  Littlejohn  was 
expecting  us,  and  I  was  afraid  we  would  be  late  in  reaching 
the  place.  When  we  got  there,  he  had  given  us  out,  and 
had  dined  without  us ;  but  something  was  soon  fixed  up. 
The  good  Christian  gentleman  had  the  prospect  of  a  total 
failure  of  his  crop.  He  was  very  cheerful,  however;  and 
seemed  to  be  a  well-read  man,  of  much  general  information ; 
and  his  wife  and  children  were  very  agreeable.  In  the  even- 
ing, we  stepped  over  to  the  house  of  the  local  minister, 
whose  name  I  have  forgotten,  and  spent  a  pleasant  time. 
The  Doctor  had  several  impressive  incidents  to  relate  of  the 
days  of  '76,  which  he  had  heard  from  his  father.  And  within 
a  few  yards  of  his  house,  was  the  encampment  of  Colonel 
Washington's  horse,  a  few  days  before  the  battle  of  Cow- 
pens,  which  was  fought  only  a  few  miles  from  his  j)lace. 

I  had  not  been  to  Spartanburg  for  fifteen  years,  and  my 
thoughts  were  both  sad  and  pleasant  while  musing  on  my 
second  visit.  I  was  told  that  religion  was  at  a  low  ebb 
there ;  and  I  wondered  how  the  friends  would  receive  me, 
after  so  many  years'  absence ;  and  whether  the  Lord's  work 
would  be  revived  or  not. 

Dr.  L.,  who  went  with  us  the  next  day,  was  well  acquain- 
ted with  all  that  region  of  country,  having  lived  there  many 
years  ago ;  and  he  knew  almost  every  man,  woman,  and 
child  he  saw  on  the  road ;  and  every  place  seemed  familiar 


290  STRAY    LEAVES. 

to  liiin.  He  told  the  histories  of  some  families  whose  houses 
we  passed.  lie  was  an  interesting  talker;  and  we  listened 
with  more  interest  than  to  some  sermons  we  had  heard.  We 
stopped  at  his  mother-in-law's  for  dinner — a  good  place  for 
the  preachers  to  rest,  as  they  passed  on  their  missions  of 
mercy.  That  good  sister  must  have  often  entertained  the 
servants  of  the  Lord.  We  found  that  J3rother  Sliarpe  and  his 
family  had  been  spending  some  time  there. 

We  arrived  at  Spartanburg  safely,  after  a  long  day's  drive. 
I  went  to  Brother  Fleming's,  and  shook  hands  with  cousin 
Carrie  and  the  family;  and  then  spent  the  night  with  Bro- 
ther Lester — a  much-respected  friend. 

In  the  morning,  Brother  AY.  and  Dr.  L.  returned  to  their 
homes.  Was  it  possible,  I  was  in  Spartanburg  once  more  ? 
What  was  to  be  the  result  of  the  expected  passage  of  arms  ? 
Which  side  was  to  win,  heaven  or  hell?  What  liag  was  to 
wave  in  victory,  that  of  Calvary  or  perdition  ?  Who  were 
to  be  convicted,  and  who  converted  ?  Was  the  church  soon 
to  be  moved,  or  w^ould  it  require  heavy  and  hard  blows  to 
rouse  up  the  children  of  Ziou,  so  that  they  would  willingl}' 
come  up  to-  the  help  of  the  Lord  ?  Would  the  old  friends 
give  me  a  warm  Cooper  Eiver  welcome  ?  Such  thoughts  as 
these  often  possessed  my  mind. 

I  had  not  yet  seen  sister  Wright,  Brother  Bobo,  and  many 
others ;  but  I  hoped  to  see  them  soon  ;  for  I  could  not  feel 
at  home  till  I  had.  I  had  time  to  look  about,  and  I  met 
several  friends  who  greeted  me  as  in  olden  times.  And  that 
warm-hearted  man — Brother  K.,  had  greeted  me  with  a 
gentle  smile ;  but  I  said  to  myself,  "  this  is  not  up  to  Cooper 
Eiver  yet ;  but  it  will  do  very  w^ell.''  So  I  thanked  the 
Lord,  and  took  courage.  Some  of  the  kind  ladies  of  the 
place  had  looked  for  me  long,  and  had  made  ready  to  receive 
me  with  something  nice  and  inviting.  You  know,  some 
things  will  get  out ;  so,  it  had  been  noised  abroad  that  the 
parson  was  fond  of  a  nice  rice-pudding,  and  some  of  the 
ladies  had  prepared  it  for  him  ;  but  he  did  not  come,  and  they 
were  discouraged.  But  though  cousin  Carrie  had  been  dis- 
appointed more  than  once,  she  had  faith  to  believe  that  the 
missing  one  would  turn  up  some  time,  and  resolved  to  try  it 


MEETING   OLD    FRIENDS.  291 

once  more ;  and  so  it  was,  for  the  absent  one  was  at  last  at 
her  house,  where  he  met  some  warm  friends,  who  greeted 
him  with  a  Cooper  Eiver  welcome.  His  faith  and  hope  were 
strong ;  and  his  war-horse  was  bearing  hard  on  the  bit ;  and 
soon  he  would  be  ready  to  hang  his  banner  on  the  outer  wall. 

At  Brother  F.'s,  I  met  Dr.  Smith,  whom  I  had  long  known 
and  respected — a  friend  of  the  olden  times ;  also  Professors 
Dupre  and  Carlisle.  They  are  all  well  known  to  fame,  and 
are  faithful  servants  of  our  Saviour.  And  the  hours  passed 
by  very  agreeably.  Brother  Black,  from  the  Greenville  Sta- 
tion, was  there,  and  appeared  glad  to  see  me,  and  wanted  to 
put  me  to  work  before  I  had  rested  enough.  Brother  F.'s 
children  treated  me  with  much  respect;  and  his  dear  little 
Agnes,  with  her  winning  ways,  made  a  life-time  impression 
on  me.  And  before  I  left,  I  found  out  that  Spartanburg  had 
two  little  angel  girls  living  there,  who,  I  tru^t,  will  often 
remember  me  in  their  prayers ;  and  I  hope  our  Saviour  will 
be  unto  them,  "  as  the  shadow  of  a  great  rock  in  a  weary 
land."'  I  was  glad  to  see  my  dear  friends,  the  Mulligans,  of 
whom  I  think  so  much.  I  had  met  them  in  much  happier 
circumstances,  in  the  days  of  "auld  lang  syne."  While  writing 
these  lines,  something  seems  to  whisper  to  me,  "  those  two 
little  angel  girls  prayed  for  you  last  night." 

Before  beginning  with  the  meeting  at  Spartanburg,  I  will 
tell  you  of  the  meeting  at  Cannon's.  Brother  F.  took  me 
there  on  Saturday  morning.  It  was  my  first  visit  there, 
though  I  had  often  wished  to  be  there.  We  overtook  a 
horseman  mo\'ing  slowly  along,  whom  Brotlier  F.  appeared 
glad  to  meet ;  and  I  was  introduced  to  Colonel  Ballinger. 
And  I  said  to  myself,  "  Is  it  possible  that  this  is  the  man 
whom  I  have  been  wanting  to  see  for  twenty  years  ?"  Oar 
names  were  very  much  alike.  I  had  been  told  that  I  looked 
like  Colonel  Ballinger,  of  Spartanburg  District ;  and  was 
asked  if  we  were  related.  And  so  I  had  long  been  wanting 
to  meet  him.  I  told  hi*m  of  my  desire  to  become  acquainted 
with  him  ;  and  he  said  that  he  had  been  as  anxious  to  meet 
me.  He  was  one  of  the  stewards  on  the  circuit.  Our  first 
meeting  came  very  near  being  a  fatal  one  to  him,  for  his 
horse  stumbled,  and  fell  on  him,  hurting  him  seriously. 


292  STRAY  leaa^p:s. 

We  reached  the  ground  ;  but,  from  what  I  "vvas  told,  the 
friends  did  not  think  they  could  support  a  camp-meeting; 
but  at  last  they  concluded  to  do  so.  I  found  the  ground 
very  much  out  of  order ;  many  of  the  tents  were  fast  going 
to  ruin,  aryl  that  old  battle-field  was  very  much  on  the  de- 
cline— hence  the  first  appearance  was  very  unpromising.  I 
expected  that  many  a  struggle  between  light  and  darkness 
had  taken  place  there  :  sometimes  one  party  seemed  about 
to  gain  the  day,  and  then  the  other'side  would  recover  and 
finally  gain  the  victory.     I  hope  truth  always  prevailed. 

Brother  Sharpe,  and  the  preacher  on  the  circuit  above, 
united  in  their  labor  of  love  ;  and  I  understood  that  they 
had  been  blessed  with  great  times  generally ;  and  through 
grace  there  was  no  failure  this  time.  If  those  two  ministers 
are  spared  to  the  church,  they  will,  with  the  help  of  the 
Lord,  accomplish  much  good.  I  became  acquainted  with 
many  persons,  some  of  whom  noticed  me  closely ;  but  this 
seems  to  be  the  case  wherever  the  Strange  Preacher  goes. 
Brother  Fleming  wished  me  to  lead  the  way.  I  heard  some 
of  my  favorite  songs,  and  enjoyed  them  very  much.  When- 
ever I  visit  a  place  for  the  first  time,  it  requires  some  little 
time  for  the  friends  to  become  accustomed  to  me ;  but  there 
must  have  been  more  than  usual  prayer  offered  up  now ;  for 
things  went  on  as  if  I  had  long  been  known  to  them ;  and, 
through  grace,  there  was  a  season  of  refreshing,  and  the 
hosts  of  Israel  struck  their  tents  and  started  for  the  green 
fields  of  Eden.  We  had  the  promise  of  a  fine  meeting.  I 
would  have  been  glad  to  have  remained  at  the  time-honored 
place;  but  the  meeting  in  Spartanburg  had  begun,  and  I 
could  not  well  attend  both  ;  for  after  having  been  at  so  many 
places,  I  did  not  feel  able  to  do  much  work.  So  we  left  in 
the  evening,  expecting  to  return  the  next  day. 

Sunday  came,  and  I  started  on  my  last  visit  to  the  camp- 
ground. The  great  crowd  would  be  out — the  upper  ten,  and' 
the  lower  ten,  and  all ;  and  there  wou*ld  be  a  general  gather- 
ing there  that  day.  I  was  ordered  to  open  the  battle  again. 
We  had  old-time  Methodist  singing — how  it  climbed  the  hills 
of  heaven  ;  and  we  had  a  glorious  time.  Mourners  crowded 
the  altar ;  and  many  of  the  friends  crossed  the  bar  in  splen- 


THE   SPARTANBUEG   MEETING.  293 

did  style.  Brother  F.  preached  at  three  o'clock,  on  a  rather 
singular  subject — Samson's  riddle.  He  swung  clear,  and  I 
learned  a  thing  or  two;  for  I  found  out  that  there  were 
more  good  fishing  places  on  that  creek  than  I  thought  there 
were.  Farewell  to  the  old  camp-ground;  but  I  will  not  soon 
forget  it.  .  The  meeting  continued  for  nine  days,  with  happy 
results  ;  praise  the  Lord  ! 

Spartanburg  had  improved  a  great  deal,  in  some  respects, 
since  I  was  there  before.  Two  flourishing  colleges,  a  much 
more  suitable  church,  and  several  fine  houses  had  been  built. 
But  what  were  the  religious  prospects  of  the  town  ?  For 
that  was  the  thing  of  most  importance.  I  had  seen  the 
pious,  devoted  sister  Wright ;  and  she  was  glad  to  greet  me 
once  more.  I  noticed  many  things  ;  and  was  a  little  afraid 
of  the  result  of  the  battle  about  to  begin ;  but  I  looked  to 
the  hills,  whence  cometh  my  help. 

The  first  night  of  the  meeting  came.  I  thought  things 
looked  a  little  changed  ;  but  I  said  to  myself,  "  Now  for  some 
of  those  old  songs  I  enjoyed  so  much  when  Brother  Mouzon 
was  on  the  station."  But,  hark!  what  was  that  1  heard? 
There  was  a  melodeon  in  the  church — which  was  quite  a 
change.  The  friends  had  heard  that  the  parson  did  not 
relish  such  things  as  much  as  they  did,  and  so  they  did  not 
use  it  every  time  ;  but  he  became  more  accustomed  to  it, 
and  sometimes  thought  it  added  to  the  interest  of  the  ser- 
vice— particularly  when  Brother  Dupre  sang  that  simple  lay 
that  took  the  Strange  Preacher's  heart  by  storm,  "  There's 
a  light  in  the  window  for  thee,  brother." 

The  service  went  on  from  day  to  day ;  but  I  had  been  to 
so  many  good  meetings,  that  I  was  a  little  cast  down  that 
this  did  not  compare  favorably  with  them.  But  I  hoped  and 
prayed  on.  I  went,  one  morning,  to  Brother  F.'s,  and  my 
little  Agnes  came  to  me  with  a  sweet  smile,  and  said,  "Uncle 
Bellinger,  I  can  repeat  the  Psalm  you  preached  from  on  the 
first  night :  '  I  was  glad  when  they  said  unto  me,  let  us  go 
into  the  house  of  the  Lord.  Our  feet  shall  stand  within  thy 
gateSy  O  Jerusalem  ! '  "  I  felt  strengthened  and  encouraged, 
and  thought  there  was  a  better  day  coming  for  our  meeting; 
and  I  said  to  myself,  "  She  must  be  one  of  my  little  angel 


294  STRAY    LEAVES. 

girls  of  Spartanburg;  but  I  hope  I  will  find  another,  for  I 
would  rather  have  two." 

On  Friday  night,  the  turn-out  was  larger,  and  I  began  to 
feel  a  little  more  at  home,  and  felt  sure  that  Brothers  B.  and 
K.,  and  sister  W..  were  praying  for  me. 

The  meeting  went  on  slowly  at  first ;  but  on  Saturday 
night  there  was  some  slight  advance ;  still  I  was  cast  down, 
and  concluded  that  it  was  a  hard  place  to  move.  For  two 
nights,  rain  prevented  many  of  the  people  from  attending 
church.  Dr.  S.  prayed  once  or  twice,  and  the  Wandering 
Arab  began  to  feel  the  heavenly  influence  coming  upon  him ; 
and  Brother  Fleming  said  it  was  time  to  cross  the  Jordan, 
for  the  services  had  been  improving.  Brother  Lester  prayed, 
and  the  heavens  seemed  to  be  coming  lower  down,  and  the 
earth  rising.  And  Brother  Dupre  and  his  choir  had  sung 
again,  "  There's  a  light  in  the  window  for  thee,  brother ;  " 
and  the  parson  felt  the  tide  gradually  rising.  When  Brother 
Bobo  told  me  good  night,  he  smiled,  and  I  thought  to  my- 
self, "You  have  not  forgotten  the  old  times  in  1851."  My 
head-quarters  were  generally  at  his  house. 

I  felt  quite  at  home  with  Brother  Kirby  and  his  kind  wife 
and  interesting  children ;  and  I  often  thought,  while  with 
him,  of  my  much-loved  friend,  Brother  Durant,  and  of  the 
pleasant  times  I  had  had  with  him  at  Eock  Springs. 

One  day,  while  riding  in  the  town,  a  dear  little  girl  said 
to  me,  "  Good  morning.  Uncle  Bellinger."  I  replied,  "  Good 
morning ;  but  I  do  not  know  you."  Her  large  black  eyes 
looked  a  little  disappointed  as  she  said,  "  You  don't  know 
me !  Why,  I  am  Mr.  Lester's  daughter ;  and  joii  were  at 
our  house  the  other  da3^"  And  I  said,  "  O !  yes,  I  remember 
you  now,  and  am  glad  to  see  you.  Did  you  say  your  pray- 
ers last  night  ?"  "  O  !  yes,"  she  replied,  with  a  smile  of  love 
in  her  bright  eyes,  "  and  I  prayed  for  you,  too."  I  told  her, 
I  was  so  glad;  and  that  she  must  come  to  church,  and  sit 
w^here  1  could  see  her.  She  said,  "  I  will  be  glad  to  come, 
but  father  says  I  will  go  to  sleep  ;  but  if  I  was  to  sleep  in 
the  evening,  then  I  could  keep  awake."  I  replied,  "  Go 
home,  and  tell  your  father,  that  I  said,  he  must  let  you  come 
to  church,  and  sit  where  I  can  see  you."     She  seemed  much 


PRAYING   CHILDREN.  295 

delighted  as  she  tripped  off,  and  the  Wandering  Arab  said  to 
himself,  "  I  have  my  other  little  angel  girl,  and  we  will  have 
a  good  meeting  yet."  I  rode  on,  and  found  a  little  boy  with 
three  apples.  He  gave  me  one,  and  said,  that  he  too  prayed 
for  me ;  and  I  felt  like  clapping  my  hands  right  there,  and 
crying  out,  "  Farewell  world."  Bless  the  Lord  for  praying 
children. 

That  night  the  Lord  was  graciously  present,  and  was  walk- 
ing amid  the  golden  candlesticks.  And  the  church  came  up 
bravely  to  the  helj)  of  the  Lord  against  the  mighty.  And 
my  little  angel  girl  sat  where  I  could  see  her — there  was 
no  sign  of  sleep  in  her  beautiful  black  eyes.  And  Brother 
Dupre  sang  again,  "  There's  a  light  in  the  window  for  thee, 
brother ;  "  and,  bless  the  Lord,  the  holy  work  was  at  last 
revived,  and  several  mourners  came  to  the  altar — some  of 
them  thereby  surprising  their  friends  very  much.  And  I 
said  to  myself,  "  We  Avill,  through  grace,  have  a  revival 
among  these  friends  yet." 

One  morning,  feeling  very  tired,  and  nearly  used  up,  and 
feeling  a  little  home-sick  too,  I  was  in  my  room  seeking  re- 
pose, when  one  came  in,  with  a  smile  of  heaven  on  his  face, 
and  a  tear  of  joy  in  his  eye,  and  speaking  to  me,  said,  "  Sir, 
I  can  say  '  Farewell  world '  now,  feeling  as  happy  as  you  did 
last  night."  It  was  one  of  the  young  converts.  I  was  at 
once  on  the  top  of  the  mountains,  and  ready  for  au other 
charge.  Old  Spartanburg  was  once  more  on  the  eve  of  a 
great  revival.  ^N'ot  unto  man,  but  unto  thy  name,  O !  Lord, 
be  all  the  glory  given. 

I  called,  one  day,  to  see  the  wife  of  my  much-loved  friend, 
Brother  W.  C.  Kirkland.  It  was  a  sad  meeting  for  both  of 
us.  I  do  hope  the  Keeper  of  Israel  will  always  protect  that 
family  from  all  evil  here,  and  save  them  in  his  kingdom 
hereafter.  How  lonely  and  distressed  she  seemed  for  her 
sainted  husband  in  rest  above. 

I  spent  one  night  with  Brother  Dupre,  the  rain  keeping 
me  there.  I  was  not  very  sorry  it  turned  out  so,  for  I  saw 
more  of  that  good  man's  family ;  and  I  expect  to  remember 
the  time  always,  and  wish  I  could  spend  many  more  such 
evenings. 


296  STRAY   LEAVES. 

A  great  revival  l)egan,  and  Avas  kept  up  for  several  daj^s 
after  I  left,  with  much  interest  to  the  last.  I  was  present  at 
more  than  one  good  prayer-meeting  while  there ;  but  I  am 
sorry  I  did  not  hear  Brother  Lester  preach.  I  was  glad  to 
listen  to  Dr.  Smith,  one  night,  from — "  How  long  halt  ye  be- 
tween two  opinions?"  And  the  Lord  was  powerfully  pre- 
sent. I  had  not  heard  him  for  many  years,  and  it  reminded 
me  of  the  days  long  gone  by.  And  I  was  glad  to  find  that 
his  "bow  still  abode  in  its  strength." 

I  was  expected  soon  to  unfurl  my  banner  in  Greenville — 
therefore  I  had  to  leave  while  th5  revival  was  still  going  on. 
1  must  take  my  farewell  of  Spartanburg.  When  shall  we  all 
meet  again  ?  Perhaps  never  again  in  this  life.  But  how 
will  we  meet  ?  Saved  through  grace,  will  it  be  ?  I  hope  it 
will  be  as  friends  who  have  loved,  never  to  part  again. 

Farewell  to  all  the  kind  friends  of  Spartanburg !  While 
writing  this  number,  I  have  been  thinking,  that  if  such  a 
thing  could  be,  when  I  am  called  to  cross  the  river  of  death, 
I  would  like  to  have  some  of  my  Spartanburg  friends,  with 
other  loved  ones,  present ;  and  Brother  Fleming  to  offer  the 
first  prayer,  and  then  to  read  the  122d  Psalm — "  I  was  gl^d 
when  they  said  unto  me,  let  us  go  into  the  house  of  the 
Lord;"  with  Brothers  Bobo  and  Kirby  near  by,  and  the  two 
angel  girls  at  my  right  side ;  and  then  to  have  Professor 
Carlisle  to  pray ;  and  then  to  have  my  much-loved  family  to 
bid  me  farewell ;  and  then  to  have  Brother  Dupre  and  his 
choir  to  sing — "  There's  a  light  in  the  window  for  thee,  bro- 
ther;" and,  as  I  am  passing  away,  to  have  Brother  Lester 
to  pray  as  he  did  that  night  in  the  church ;  and  to  have 
Dr.  Smith  to  perform  the  funeral  service. 

Farewell  to  my  Spartanburg  friends  ;  may  we  meet  in 
heaven  ! 


LKAF  THE  FOETY-THIRB. 

JACKSONVILLE,     FLORIDA;     OR,    THE     STRANGE    PREACHER   RE- 
QUESTED   TO    STAY    TILL    AFTER    SUPPER. 

Come  friends,  and  go  with  me  to  the  "Land  of  Flowers.'* 
I  will  not  keep  you  long,  as  my  stay  there  was  short.  I 
went  from  Bamberg  to  Charleston,  and  thence  to  the  St. 
John's  Eiver,  and  in  due  time  I  arrived  at  Jacksonville.  It 
was  my  first  visit,  and  I  scarcely  expected  to  see  a  single 
person  I  knew.  I  was  accustomed  to  such  things.  Before 
I  left  the  vessel,  a  young  man  from  my  District  came  up  and 
spoke  to  me,  and  seemed  very  glad  to  see  me. 

The  next  morning,  I  called  to  see  the  preacher  of  the  sta- 
tion. Brother  G.,  a  young  man  of  much  promise  ;  and  I  dis- 
covered that  his  wife  was  a  daughter  of  a  local  preacher  of 
South  Carolina.  I  had  first  seen  her  at  Abbeville  court- 
house, when  a  little  girl ;  and  I  met  her,  years  after,  in 
Jacksonville,  the  wife  of  a  minister.  She  remembered  having 
heard  her  father  speak  of  me.  Brother  G-.  said  he  would 
like  me  to  fill  the  pulpit  for  him  at  the  next  service ;  but 
that  it  had  been  given  out  that  he  was  to  preach  the  funeral 
sermon  of  a  member  of  the  church  ;  so  he  wanted  me  to  try 
it  that  night,  which  I  consented  to  do. 

I  was  glad  to  meet  with  an  old  acquaintance  from  our 
State — a  Brother  R. — who  was  a  local  preacher,  and  a  gen- 
tleman of  pleasing  manners.  We  had  not  met  for  several 
years. 

After  service,  I  was  requested  to  spend  the  evening  at  a 
brother's  house,  where  I  was  treated  very  kindly.  Brother 
R.  and  his  wife  were  also  there ;  and  I  hope  the  time  was 
not  wasted  in  vain  discourse.  My  spirits  were  good,  and  I 
was  in  hope  that  we  w^ould  have  a  good  night-meeting.  Re- 
membering that  I  had  to  preach  at  night,  I  did  not  indulge 
at  dinner  as  much  as  I  sometimes  do ;  and  I  spent  some 
time  alone,  thinking  of  my  discourse  for  the  night.  But  late 
in  the  evening,  I  was  again  in  thdr  company.  My  spirits 
19 


298  STRAY    LEAVES. 

were  high,  and  I  requested  Brother  E.  and  his  wife  to  sing 
some  of  my  favorite  songs.  I  suspect  there  are  but  few  per- 
sons upon  whom  singing  has  such  an  effect  as  upon  me. 
Sometimes  I  am  carried  bej^ond  all  self-control,  and  feel  as 
much  impressed  as  by  the  best  sermons  I  have  ever  heard. 
And  at  times,  when  I  am  very  much  cast  down — quite  low 
down  in  the  valley — some  of  my  friends,  Avho  know  what 
songs  I  love  to  hear,,  will  sing  for  me ;  and  by  degrees,  my 
feelings  are  raised,  until  I  stand  on  the  mountain-top.  When 
thus  excited,  if  I  meet  with  an  unexpected  check,  I  am  very 
suddenly  depressed. 

Now,  that  evening  in  Florida,  one  sweet  song  followed 
another,  and  the  parson's  feelings  continued  to  rise— he  was 
enjoying  much  such  songs  as,  "Jerusalem,  my  happy  home  ;" 
*'  There  is  a  liappy  land,  far,  far  away."  The  tide  of  feeling 
rose  higher,  and  he  was  soon  on  the  mountain-top,  or,  as 
Brother  Durant  would  have  said,"  he  was  almost  above  the 
"  blue  throned  stars."  The  impression  on  the  little  party  was 
strong;  and  the  preacher  requested  that  they  would  sing 
one  more  song — "I  would  not  live  alway;  I  ask  not  to  stay." 
The  tide  of  feeling  was  bearing  every  thing  before  it — as 
when  Dr.  S.  spoke  twice  in  his  first  love-feast.  And  the 
preacher  was  soon  on  his  feet,  feeling  as  he  had  often  done, 
while  crying  'out,  "  once  more  to  the  charge,  dear  friends, 
once  more."  He  told  his  friends,  he  wanted  "to  live  a  Chris- 
tian here,  he  wanted  to  die  shouting."  It  has  been  said  by 
some  one,  that  the  "War  Preacher  is  never  seen  in  all  his 
glory,  only  while  passing  through  the  congregation,  shaking 
hands,  with  his  flag  flying.  But  you  should  have  been  there. 
He  never  was  much  more  impressed  than  on  that  Sabbath 
evening.  The  lady  of  the  house  had  never  met  the  Wander- 
ing Arab  before ;  and  he  doubtless  appeared  to  her  a  very 
singular  person.  But  on,  and  still  on,  the  sweet  singing  went ; 
and  he  shook  hands  with  each  of  the  little  party,  and  told 
them  how  happy  he  was — that  he  was  bound  for  the  king- 
dom, and  hoped  to  meet  them  there.  Brother  E.  was  much 
impressed,  and  gave  the  Strange  Preacher  a  strong  grasp  of 
the  hand ;  tears  were  falling  fast  around ;  and  «n  the  joarson 
went,  fully  bound  for  the  green  fields  of  Eden,  on  the  other 


IN   A   CLOSE   PLACE.  301^ 

church.  I  was  requested  to  preach.  ISTow,  in. those  days,  I 
kept  no  record  of  my  texts  ;  but  I^thought  I  would  try  some- 
thing new  to  the  friends ;  and  I  hoped  they  would  be  pleased 
with  it.  I  said  to  Brother  K.,  after  we  left  the  church,  "  I 
guess  you  never  heard  me  from  that  subject  before."  I  re- 
member his  reply,  and  the  expression  of  his  face,  to  this  day. 
"Brother  B.,"  he  remarked,  "I  hope  you  will  not  mind  my 
saying,  that  when  you  read  out  your  text,  I  said  to  myself, 
'I  think  this  will  make  the  fourth  time!'"  The  preacher 
was  let  down  somewhat.  There  was  no  denying,  he  felt  the 
tide  turning  rapidly  the  other  way. 

We  were  soon  overtaken  by  a  heavy  shower,  and  got  well 
drenched.  When  we  arrived  at  the  house,  I  retired  to  put 
on  some  of  Brother  B.'s  clothes,  who  was  not  as  large  a  man 
as  myself.  I  never  was  in  such  a  fix  before  in  all  my  life. 
In  those  days,  very  tight  pants  were  the  fashion..  The 
preacher  had  been  told  by  his  friends  to  hasten,  as  the  din- 
ner was  ready.  He  strove  to  get  into  the  pants,  but  it 
would  not  do.  E'ow,  a  knock  at  the  door ;  some  one  said, 
"Please  come  now,  the  soap  is  cooling."  The  preacher 
prilled  and  twisted ;  but  still  there  was  no  admission.  The 
writer  of  these  "  Stray  Leaves"  was  evidently  in  a  close 
place,  ^ow  again,  a  long  pull,  a  strong  pull,  and  a  pull  alto- 
gether ;  but  still  in  vain.  Another  knock,  "  Do  come ;  what 
can  be  the  matter  ?  You  must  be  through  with  your  pray- 
ers by  this  time."  A  low  voice  within  answers,  "  Do  not 
wait  for  me."  The  reply  is,  "  Yes,  we  will ;  but  do  come — • 
the  soup  is  cold  now;  are  you  not  through  with  your  pray- 
ers yet?"  A  low  voice  from  within  replies,  "I  am  not 
praying ;  I  cannot  get  the  pants  on."  'Now,  I  stood  on  a 
chair,  and  held  the  pants  as  wide  open  and  as  tight  as  possi- 
ble, and  jumped  into  them,  and  twisted  and  strained  des- 
perately. At  last,  they  were  on ;  but,  such  a  fit — so  awful 
tight.  Now"  the  door  opened,  and  out  came  the  preacher, 
with  such  feelings  as  he  never  had  before.  It  was  a  custom 
to  stand  up,  in  those  days,  to  say  grace.  He  thought  all 
eyes  were  upon  him.  When  he  was  standing  up,  he  was 
afraid  to  sit  down ;  and  when  seated,  he  dreaded  very  much 
getting  up.     What  a  relief  it  was  for  the  preacher  when  the 


302  STRAY    LEAVES. 

hour  for  repose  came !  The  parson  retired  to  bed,  Ba3nng  to 
himself,  "  I  am  afraid  the  friends  have  found  out  that  I 
never  got  the  pants  on  till  the  drawers  were  left  behind." 

But  to  return  to  ni}'  narrative.  Next  morning,  I  went  to 
the  house  of  Colonel  J.  X.  Brabham — a  friend  long  known 
and  much  respected.  I  was  not  expected,  but  it  made  no 
diiference  with  them.  I  hope  I  left  a  blessing  behind  me 
here ;  for  I  know  I  found  one  in  the  very  pleasant  hours 
spent  with  those  pilgrims  to  Zion's  hill.  Next  morning,  I 
started  again,  Colonel  B.  going  with  mS,  to  see  me  safe  over 
the  Great  Saltketcher;  and,  through  a  kind  Providence,  we 
got  over  safe.  And  now  we  part.  O  !  when  shall  I  see  that 
lover  of  my  Saviour  again  ?  If  no  more  on  earth,  I  hope  we 
may  meet  at  last  in  the  green  fields  of  Eden,  at  rest  forever 
more. 

Now  I  move  along  very  slowly — my  old  horse  reminding 
me  much  of  that  famous  one  I  once  rode  near  Plonk's  Cor- 
ner, which  was  said  to  trot  all  day  under  the  shade  of  a  oak. 
And  now  I  pass  by  the  burned  stores,  where  many  thousands 
of  dollars  were  once  made,  and  by  desolate  homes,  and  I  felt 
like  saying,  "sic  transit  gloria  mundiy 

What  is  that  which  now  attracts  the  attention  of  the 
writer  of  the  "  Stray  Leaves  ?  "  for  his  imagination  is  now 
spreading  her  wings  for  a  flight.  It  was  an  old  oak  stand- 
ing near  an  old  homestead.  Friend,  did  you  ever  see  an  old 
tree  or  house,  that  seemed  to  you  to  have  a  melancholy  tale 
to  tell  ?  I  have  noticed  such  more  than  once  in  my  roving 
life.  You  know  that  the  Bible  represents  the  trees  as  speak- 
ing sometimes. 

Let  me  tell  you  first  of  an  old  house,  for  which  I  feel  very 
sorry.  It  stands  within  the  bounds  of  the  present  Bamberg 
circuit,  near  a  famous  old  mill  that  has  had  several  names, 
but  is  now  called  Nimmons'  Mill.  I  was  passing  there  not 
long  since,  and  it  appeared  to  me  that  the  (9ld  mansion 
looked  more  sad  than  ever  before.  I  could  almost  fancy  I 
could  hear  it  sigh,  and  say : 

"  O !  Eoving  Preacher,  I  know  you.  Do  you  not  feel 
sorry  for  me  ?  My  glory  has  long  departed ;  my  happiest 
days  are  gone  ;    I  have  often  wished   that  my  overthrow 


LAMENT    OF   THE   OLD    HOUSE.  303 

would  come.  There  was  a  time  in  the  days  of '  auld  lang 
syne,'  when  I  was  very  happy,  and  enjoyed  life  much ;  but 
a  mournful  change  .has  come  over  me.  There  was  a  time, 
when  preachers  stopped  here,  and  rejoiced  together,  and 
praised  the  great  Eternal.  I  remember  when  you  seldom 
passed  without  entering  my  now  deserted  halls.  But  now, 
your  visits  are  less  frequent  than  the  angels'  to  this  sin- 
cursed  earth — for  they  come  sometimes,  but  you  never. 
Once,  many  years  ago,  I  think  it  was  when  that  much-loved 
preacher,  the  Kev.  W.  P.  Mouzon,  travjsUed  the  Walterboro 
circuit,  you  were  riding  by  one  day,  and  stopped,  and  seemed 
much  moved  at  my  sad  state.  You  dismounted,  and  came 
into  my  silent  rooms.  There  was  no  family  living  here  then. 
You  at  last  knelt  down;  you  were  quite  excited;  you' 
wrestled  much  in  prayer ;  you  were  blessed ;  you  rose  from 
knees,  and  said,  '  Farewell  world !  I  am  bound  for  the  king- 
dom.' You  cried  out  aloud,  'Bless  the  Lord,  O!  _my  soul; 
and  praise  him,  all  ye  powers  within  me.'  You  then  rode 
off,  trying  to  sing, 


'  I  want  to  live  a  Christian  here  ; 
1  want  to  die  a-shouting  ; 
I  want  to  feel  my  Saviour  near. 
When  soul  with  body's  parting.' 

'*  I  now  said  to  myself,  '  a  ^lethodist  preacher  has  come 
here  at  last,  who  very  often  led  in  family  prayer  here  in  the 
olden  time.'  You  had  not  gone  long — -I  know  you  had  not 
reached  the  old  Clear-pond — when  I  said,  '  I  am  alraid  he 
will  never  stop  here  again ;  the  last  preacher  has  come  and 
gone  of  the  many  who  used  to  stay  here  so  often  in  the 
happy  years  long  gone.'  T  then  said  to  myself,  '  I  wish  I 
could  be  overthrown ;  I  wish  the  lightnings  of  heaven,  or 
the  strong  winds,  or  the  fires  that  so  often  burn  the  woods 
around,  would  destroy  me.'  For  then,  the  next  time  you 
came  by,  on  your  way  to  the  Zion  of  the  Walterboro  circuit, 
you  would  feel  very  sorry  for  me,  and  pray  among  the  old 
ruins  of  the  old  homestead,  and  think  of  the  immortal  heroes 
of  the  old  South  Carolina  Conference,  who  often  worshipped 
their  Saviour  in  these  now  lonely  halls.     You  would  remem- 


304  STRAY   LEAVES. 

ber  the  great  Achilles  —  S.  W.  Capers,  Samnel  Dunwody, 
H.  II.  Durant,  Colin  Murchison,  H.  A.  C.  Walker,  TheophiluH 
Huggins,  P.  F.  Kistler,  and  that  war-worrf  veteran — Henry 
Bass.     But  now  I  am  sad  of  heart,  and  tired  of  life." 

Let  us  return  now,  my  friends,  to  the  venerable  oak — 
standing  near  the  burned  hCrpestead,  on  the  south  side  of 
Eivers'  Bridge,  on  the  Great  Saltketeher.  That  lonely  tree 
seemed  to  have  a  sad  tale  to  tell.  1  could  almost  fancy  it 
thus  addressing  me : 

"  Traveller,  who  are  you  now  going  by  ?  I  have  a  melan- 
choly history." 

I  hope,  my  friends,  some  of  you  will  enjoy  this  picture — 
that  of  the  venerable  tree  telling  its  tale  of  woe  to  the 
Roving  Preacher.  It  now,  after  several  mournful  sighs, 
seems  thus  to  speak : 

"  It  was  long  before  these  present  United  States  were 
formed,  and  in  the  early  days  of  the  colonies,  that  I  was  but 
a  very  small  twig — only  a  few  feet  high.  But  many  large 
trees  were  around  me,  with  their  lofty  heads  towering  hea- 
venwards. Something  within  me  told  me,  that  as  they  are 
now,  so  would  I  be,  in  the  distant  future.  I  believed  the 
thought,  and  my  heart  was  glad.  The  rains  fell,  and  the 
sun  shone,  and  the  summer's  heat  and  the  winter's  cold 
came,  and  I  grew  rapidly.  All  was  a  mighty  forest  around 
me  then. 

"  Many  years  passed  by,  and  then,  one  bright  Spring  day, 
the  first  of  the  frontier  men  came  along ;  and  he  put  up  a 
little  tent  not  far  off.  Still,  old  Time  rushed  by  rapidly,  and 
more  of  the  advance  men  came,  and  the  sound  of  the  axe, 
and  the  report  of  the  rifle,  roused  the  silent  echoes  of  the 
woods.  And  still  the  years  flew  by ;  when  one  day,  the  un- 
expected news  of  General  Braddock's  defeat  spread  through 
the  land.  I  was  a  young  tree  then,  with  a  bright  future  be- 
fore me — large  enough  for  the  sturdy  hauter  to  fasten  his 
horse  to  one  of  my  lower  limbs,  as  he  listened  to  the  distant 
cry  of  the  hounds,  and  waited  much  excited  for  the  coming 
of  the  antlered  monarch  of  the  forest. 

"  Years  still  flew  by  swiftly  ;  and  now,  when  the  glorious 
days  of '76  were  come,  I  was  a  young  prince  of  the  woods, 


305 

glorying  in  my  strength.  The  sporting  squirrel  had  raised 
more  than  one  family  in  his  nest  amid  my  branches ;  and 
the  monarch  eagle  had  many  a  time  soared  along  in  wide 
circles  over  my  proud  head.  I  was  happy  then  ;  I  exulted 
in  my  might.  The 'savage  panther  had  often  startled  the 
midnight  hours  with  his  child-like  cry,  as  he  roamed  through 
the  forest  around ;  and  he  more  than  once,  in  the  hot  sum- 
mer's day,  had  sprung  down  upon  the  passing  deer,  from  his 
hiding-place  among  my  thick  green  leaves.  I  grew  fast  in 
strength  then,  and  defied  the  raging  winds  as  they  swept 
along. 

"  And  now,  the  immortal  days  of  the  Eevolution  were 
come  ;  and  the  land  rang  with  the  report  of  the  Declaration 
of  Independence  ;  and  the  bloody  struggle  went  on;  and  the 
war-cry  almost  reached  the  blue  heavens ;  and  old  Time  still 
rushed  by.  And  now,  a  small  bridle  path  went  by  near  me, 
and  the  Whigs  from  above  were  hastening  down  to  Savan- 
nah— for  the  war-loving  French  had  come  to  our  help,  and 
we  expected  soon  to  take  the  city ;  and  more  than  one 
straggler  from  his  legion  was  hastening  on  to  his  place  in  the 
ranks,  under  the  heroic  Pulaski ;  and  some  of  the  passers-by 
reposed  for  a  while  beneath  my  ample  shade ;  and  the  brave 
soldiers  wept  as  they  thought  of  their  loved  ones  far  away. 

"  One  night,  the  moon  was  shining  beautifully,  and  silence 
reigned  all  around,  when  I  heard  the  sound  of  the  coming 
horsemen,  who  slowly  and  sadly  rode  up,  and  they  stayed 
near  by  till  the  coming  day.  And  now,  I  heard  them  tell  of 
the  fight,  and  the  defeat  at  Savannah  of  the  noble  Polander, 
who  fell,  fighting  bravely  to  the  last ;  and  how  the  hero  of 
Fort  Moultrie,  the  g^lant  Jasper,  even  in  death,  saved  the 
flag  he  loved  so  well.  Before  they  left,  they  resolved,  that 
after  they  went  home,  and  stayed  with  the  dear  ones  there 
a  while,  they  would  join  other  leaders — Sumter,  Marion,  or 
Pickens,  and  still  fight  on  for  the  green  graves  of  their 
fathers  and  their  native  land. 

"  The  years  still  rolled  by,  and  the  victory  was  ours,  at 
Eutaw  Springs ;  and  at  last,  Cornwallis  had  surrendered  to 
Washington  at  Yorktown,  and  the  land  had  rest  from  the 
strife  which  had  lasted  so  long. 


306  STRAY   LEAVES. 

"  I  still  lived  on,  prosperous  and  great.  Old  Time  flew 
by  still  on  rapid  wintr,  and  several  settlers  came,  and  fields 
were  opened  up  around,  and  houses  were  built,  and  one 
erected  very  near  me.  The  merry  voices  of  children  rang 
around,  and  I  was  pleased  and  glad  for  the  change  which 
had  come. 

''  By  this  time,  the  bridle  path  had  become  a  broad  high- 
way. One  da}^,  early  in  the  morning,  the  young  farmer 
came  with  his  sharp  axe  in  his  hand,  to  cut  me  down.  He 
said  that  I  checked  the  growth  of  the  green  corn  near  by, 
with  my  ample  shade.  I  trembled  much  now,  for  I  thought 
my  time  had  come.  I  was  very  fond  of  life  then.  He 
paused,  and  looked  up,  and  said  aloud,  '  My  father  often 
sported  here,  and  was  happy  under  this  tree.  I  will  not 
cut  it  down ;  and  I  will  tell  my  children,  that  when  I  am 
gone  they  must  spare  the  old  oak.'  He  then  left  me ;  and  I 
was  glad  that  I  had  escaped. 

"  Traveller,  let  me  tell  you  of  the  happiest  day  in  all  my 
past  life.  It  was  one  bright,  warm  evening  in  October. 
The  sun  was  nearly  down ;  the  birds  were  singing  in  my 
branches,  and  the  squirrel  was  eating  the  corn  he  had  taken 
from  the  field  near  by.  A  young  man  now  rode  up,  weep- 
ing with  bowed  head — his  bridle  lying  loose  on  his  horse's 
neck,  his  hands  hanging  by  his  side.  He  was  repeating 
aloud, 

*  Come,  humble  sinner,  in  whose  breast 
A  thousand  thoughts  revolve  ; 
Come,  with  your  guilt  and  fear  opprest. 
And  make  this  last  resolve.' 

"  I  had  never  seen  such  a  sight — I  Mlid  never  heard  these 
words  before — I  was  all  attention.  He  dismounted,  and  fas- 
tened his  horse  to  one  of  my  lower  limbs.  He  said  that  he 
had  gone  to  the  camp-meeting  which  broke  up  that  morning 
at  Broxton's  Bridge,  a  very  wicked  youth — had  behaved 
badly  after  he  got  there — that  he  more  than  once  made 
sport  of  the  services — that  on  Sunday  he  heard  the  presid- 
ing-elder^  the  Eev.  H.  A.  C.  Walker,  preach  a  very  impressive 
sermon,  from  the  words,  '  How  long  halt  ye  between  two 
opinions  ? ' — that  he  was  deeply  convicted  of  his  sins — that 


307 

he  felt  awful — that  at  night  he  went  with  the  mourners  to 
the  altar  for  prayer — that  among  them  was  the  young  Cap- 
tain, A.  B.  Stephens,  who  was  at  last  among  others  happily 
converted — that  he  went  back  to  his  seat  more  distressed 
than  ever.  He  said,  that  he  was  then  returning  to  his 
home  on  Jackson's  Branch — that  he  was  afraid  his  day  of 
grace  was  gone,  and  his  sins  never  would  be  pardoned.  He 
now  fell  down  on  his  knees,  crying  and  saying, 

*  I  can  but  perish  if  I  go, 
I  am  resolved  to  try  ; 
For  if  I'stay  away,  T  know, 
I  shall  forever  die.' 

^'  I  now  heard  voice  of  persons  unseen  sjDeaking  above  me. 
One  said,  '  Let  us  stop  here  awliile  in  our  rapid  flight,  for 
this  mourning  soul  is  near  salvation  ; '  and  another  voice  re- 
plied, 'AYe  will  wait,  for  he  will  soon  be  converted;  and  then 
we  will  carry  the  glad  news  to  heaven,  and  tel!  his  mother 
and  sister  that  the  still  much-loved  one  on  earth  is  saved, 
and  the  prodigal  has  come  back  to  his  Heavenly  Father.'  I 
listened  iiow  more  intently  than  ever,  and  was  so  glad  that 
the  birds  were  listening  too,  and  the  winds  were  silent  also. 
He  still  prayed  on,  and  struggled  in  his  agone,  and  cried  out 
aloud,  and  begged  the  Saviour  to  have  mercy  upon  him,  and 
he  said,  '  I  will  pray  for  pardon  till  I  die.'  The  sun  had  gone 
down  now,  and  the  evening  star  was  shining.  JS'ow  he 
sprang  to  his  feet,  and  said,  '  O !  I  have  found  my  Saviour ! 
I  have  got  the  blessing!  I  am  so  happy! '  And  he  clapped 
his  hands  and  shouted,  till  the  woods  rang  around.  I  now 
heard  a  voice  overhead  saying,  '  Let  us  carry  the  glad  news 
to  heaven :  the  dead  is  alive,  the  lost  is  found.'  He  then 
looked  up,  and  said,  '  O !  that  my  dear  mother  and  sister 
were  here  to  rejoice  with  me.'  He  then  mounted,  and  rode 
off,  saying, 

'  Nothing  but  sin  had  I  to  give, 

Nothing  but  love  have  I  received ; 
Now  will  I  tell  to  sinners  round, 
What  a  dear  Saviour  I  have  found.' 


308  STRAY    LEAVES. 

*'  This  was  the  happiest  day  of  all  my  life.  But  a  sad 
change  has  come  over  me  since.  My  much-loved  old  State 
is  ruined  now.  Many  of  the  noble  youths  are  sleeping  in 
their  soldier  graves  in  distant  lands.  The  old  house  near 
me  was  burned  down  ;  the  merry  voice  of  childhood  I  no 
longer  hear ;  my  loved  friends  are  all  gone — I  hope  to  a  bet- 
ter world  than  this.  I  am  sick  at  heart,  and  tired  of  life. 
Every  time  the  thunders  roll  and  the  lightnings  flasli  near 
me,  I  say  to  myself,  *  O !  that  my  death  was  come.' 

"  Farewell !  Eoving  Preacher  of  the  gospel.  I  hope,  if 
you  ever  pass  by  here  again,  you  will  find  me  prostrate  on 
my  mother  earth.  I  have  heard  that  you  Methodist  minis- 
ters love  to  pray  at  thq  twilight  hour.  I  beg  you,  when  you 
"bow  your  knees  in  private  this  evening,  to  ask  the  great 
Eternal  to  hasten  my  overthrow ;  for  I  long  for  my  des- 
truction." 

Let  me  here  say,  my  friends,  that  the  writer  of  the 
"  Stray  Leaves"  feels  very  sorry  for  the  old  homestead  near 
Nimmons'  Mill,  on  the  Bamberg  circuit,  and  also  for  the 
venerable  and  melancholy  old  oak  that  stands  near  Eivers 
Bridge,  on  the  Great  Saltketcher.  My  friends,  excuse  these 
mournful  thoughts  in  which  I  have  been  so  long  indulging. 

On  Saturday,  I  arrived  at  the  St.  Peter's  Church.  I  had 
not  been  there  for  many  years.  I  expected  to  find  a  waiting 
congregation,  but  only  two  persons  were  present — my  much- 
respected  friend,  Henry  Solomons,  and  his  little  son.  Even 
the  Grains  of  the  old  Black  Swamp  circuit  was  so  situated 
that  he  could  not  come,  though  I  spent  some  pleasant  hours 
at  his  house  that  evening — Major  W.  Gr.  Eoberts.  All  the 
dear  friends  of  the  happy  years  gone  by  seemed  glad  to  see 
me.  I  had  the  pleasure  once  more  of  meeting  the  Honorable 
Edward  Martin,  still,  I  hope,  on  his  way  to  the  happy  land 
far  away.  I  rejoiced  and  praised  the  Lord  together  with  that 
whole-souled  man — Brother  E.  Davis.  While  with  him,  "  or 
ever  I  was  aware,  my  soul  made  me  like  the  chariots  of  Am- 
minadab."  I  enjoyed  myself  very  much  with  those  Christian 
gentlemen — Dr.  S.  Smith  and  F.  Maner.  Sister  Joseph  Maner 
Lawton,  I  found  living  in  what  had  been  a  servant's  house, 
near  where  her  noble  mansion  once  stood.     But,  though  her 


THE   OLD   CAMP   GKOUND.  ^*^11 

surroundings  were  so  very  different  from  what  they  had 
been,  she  was  still  the  same  gentle,  heavenly-minded  lady, 
worthy  of  her  more  than  Eoman  husband  at  rest  in  the 
home  of  the  pious  departed.  I  enjoyed  myself  much  here  in 
the  Lord,  my  strength,  and  my  salvation. 

The  site  of  the  old  Black  Swamp  camp-ground  was  so 
changed,  that  I  did  not  recognize  it,  until  it  was  pointed  out 
to  me.  Though  almost  forgotten  by  many  on  earth,  heaven 
and  hell  still  remember  that  famous  battle-ground  for  the 
immortal  powers.  How  sad  the  thought,  that  many  who 
once  heard  the  gospel  preached  there,  are  now  lost  forever. 
But  let  us  praise  the  Lord  for  the  hope,  that  many  others, 
who  were  converted  there,  are  now  praising  G-od  in  endless 
day,  and  singing  the  song  of  Moses  and  the  Lamb  forever. 

Farewell !  loved  friends  of  the  immortal  Black  Swamp  cir- 
cuit. May  your  future  be  much  brighter  in  this  life  than 
your  present  is !  and  when  life's  pilgrimage  is  over,  and  the 
Jordan  of  death  is  crossed,  may  you  rest  forever  in  the  green 
fields  of  Eden  on  the  other  side  of  the  flood. 


r 


LEAF  THE  FORTY-FIP^Tir. 

THE    CONCLUSION  yV.ND    FAREWELL. 

Preachers  and  people,  saints  and  sinners,  are  often  much 
troubled  on  account  of  the  times.  But,  my  friends,  I  suspect 
we  have  not  confessed  our  sins  to  the  Lord  as  we  should 
have  done — for,  w^ho  of  us  have  not  sinned  against  Heaven, 
who  of  us  have  reformed  and  repented  as  we  should  have 
done — as  much  as  we  must  do,  before  the  Lord  of  Hosts  will 
''  cause  his  face  to  shine  upon  us,  that  we  may  be  saved." 
Are  not  many  of  us,  ^\\\o  profess  to  love  the  Lord,  more  cold 
and  dead  in  religion  than  we  used  to  be  in  the  olden  times  ? 
The  writer  of  these  "  Stray  Leaves"  pleads  guilty,  and  en- 
trea^ts  his  Christian  friends  to  pray  for  him,  that  he  may 
mend  his  ways,  and  do  much  better  in  the  future. 

The  great  trials  through  which  we  have  "had  to  pass,  in- 
stead of  humbling  us  more,  and  '•  bringing  us  nearer  to  the 
Lord,  have,  alas !  driven  some  of  us  farther  from  him.  Many 
of  us  look  too  often  at  the  dark  side  of  the  cloud  ;  and  some 
of  us,  I  fear,  almost  doubt  an  overruling  Providence.  Some, 
who,  years  ago,  loved  the  Lord,  and  were  very  valiant  for 
the  truth,  have  gone  back  entirely  to  the  world ;  or,  if  they 
remain  in  the  church,  they  are  dead  perhaps  in  trespasses 
and  sins.  Others  have  hung  their  harps  on  the  willows,  and 
refuse  to  sing  the  Lord's  songs.  Others  have  rent  their 
robes,  but  not  their  hearts,  before  the  Holy  One  of  Israel  ; 
and  they  mourn  over  the  sad  times,  still  expecting  them  to 
be  worse. 

Now,  I  think  we  are  doing  very  w^rong.  TVe  should  re- 
pent of  our  sins  sincerely,  and  humble  ourselves  in  the  dust 
before  God ;  and  see  if  he  will  open  the  windows  of  heaven 
for  us,  and  pour  out  a  blessing  "  that  there  shall  not  be  room 
enough  to  receive." 

My  friends,  if  you  will  only  receive  these  ''  Stray  Leaves" 
a«  kindly  as  you  have  ever  done  their  author,  he  will  feel 
tiat  they  have  been  treated  much  better  than  they  deserve, 


"here  we  rest."  311 

and  will  be  grateful,  and  will  pray  for  the  blessing  of  heaven, 
that  maketh  rich  for  both  worlds,  to  rest  upon  you  all. 

Let  us,  friends,  in  these  very  troublous  times,  submit  our- 
Belv'es  resignedly  into  the  Hands  of  our  Heavenly  Father — 
knowing  full  well  that  he  ever  knows  what  is  right,  and 
does  what  is  best,  for  us  all.  Let  us  not,  for  a  moment, 
think  that  we  are  utterly  forgotten  of  the  Lord,  and  that  in 
anger  he  has  forever  shut  out  his  tender  mercies  from  us. 
Let  us  not,  for  a  moment,  think  that  the  holy  angels  have 
ceased  their  ministrations  to  the  heirs  of  salvation  in  the 
South;  but,  let  us  fondly  hope  that  they  pitch  their  tents 
around  us  as  often  now  as  ever.  Let  us  not  always  look  at 
the  dark  side  of  the  cloud ;  but  let  us  try  by  faith  to  see  the 
bright  side  of  every  stormy  cloud  that  may  gather  over  us 
at  any  time.  Let  us  never  despair  of  finding  forgiveness  for 
our  many  sins,  if  we  will  only  repent  in  dust  and  ashes 
before  the  Holy  One  of  Israel,  and  seek  him  with  all  our 
hearts. 

And  now  to  you,  my  many  personal  friends  in  the  diifer- 
ent  branches  of  the  one  true  church  of  the  ever  blessed 
Saviour,  who  have  so  often  welcomed  me  to  your  hearts 
and  your  homes,  I  respectfully  bid  farewell!  We  have  often 
enjoyed  ourselves  much  together  in  this  vale'!of  tears ;  may 
we,  when  done  with  the  sorrows  of  earth,  meet  to  part  no 
more  in  the  happy  land  far  away. 

'^  And  if  our  fellowship  below. 
In  Jesus  be  so  sweet, 
What  heights  of  rapture  shall  we  know, 
When  round  his  throne  we  meet !  " 


FINIS. 


\ 


COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  UBRARIES 


0038118017 


938.6 


B417 


I       ^ 


CALL    NUMBER 

938.6 
B417 

VOL. 

YEAR 

COPY 

AUTHOR 

Bellinrrer 

TITLE 

Stray  leaves   from  the   port- 

o 

BRimE  DO  NOT  - 
PHOTOCOPY       * 


00  ^ 
0>  CD 


30 


JUL  2  3  1954 


»{     ' 


